


Paint By Numbers

by antivanitas, shotabootyshorts (vegetables)



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blackmail, Choking, Daddy Kink, Father/Son Incest, Humiliation, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Revenge, Rough Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unrelated Hiro Hamada/Tadashi Hamada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 146,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antivanitas/pseuds/antivanitas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetables/pseuds/shotabootyshorts
Summary: “Is that thing yours?” Hiro asks, calmly.  He slinks closer to the man, who is tall and broad-shouldered.  When the stranger glances down at him, the expression is only half-confused, and Hiro guesses he has no idea what was just said.  “Baymax.  You invented it, right?”Hiro’s subsequent smile is sly and, when their eyes actually meet, there’s a distinct desire to play a game he learned, long ago, from his mother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy two-year anniversary, _Big Hero 6_.

Hiro pulls the soft satin sheet over his head and groans, tiredly, into the pillow. His phone is going off for the third time in the last hour. As terrorizing at that fucking ringtone is, it’s far too much effort to stretch his arm over to the nightstand and turn it off—or, worse, navigate to the settings to mute his phone, completely.

He knows full well the missed calls are from Krei Tech. It’s probably that poor receptionist who is at the brunt of Gogo Tomago’s misplaced rage. Hiro hasn’t shown up to his internship in what will now be three weeks. He’s grown bored of it, and Tomago’s idea of teaching him about robotics and engineering is a joke. He’d much rather sleep until noon and spend his day reading online forums.

Hiro hasn’t left the penthouse in four days. It’s too hot to go out during the day, and Alistair has been getting home later and later. Hopefully, tonight will be the final evening he spends waiting up for the man. Krei Tech is hosting an expo tomorrow night, in search of new and exciting technology. Hiro already knows he’ll be dragged along.

It’s nearing four o’clock when Hiro decides to send Alistair a needy, impatient text—accompanied by a decidedly salacious photo he takes of himself in their bed. It’s easy to appear as though you’re desperate to get fucked when your hair is already a mess and you’re still wearing the same pair of lounge clothes from the past four days.

Afterward his text is sent, he finally manages to untangle himself from the sheets and leave the bedroom. Hiro heard the maid earlier in the afternoon. She knows better, at this point, not to attempt to clean the bedroom on a daily basis. As long as she scrubs the rich wood flooring in the den, dusts the fireplace’s marble hearth in the living room and shines the stainless steel kitchen appliances, Alistair isn’t going to complain. Hiro doesn’t always understand the appeal of a extravagant penthouse, but he does like the view of the San Fransokyo bridge from their balcony; he’s just not sure they need three goddamn fireplaces.

He’s too lazy to turn on the lights when the sun starts to set, drowning the living room in a soft orange. When it fades into night, Hiro remains on the couch, scrolling through his phone and appearing appropriately pathetic in the darkness. Hiro wants Alistair to find him like this, bored and alone and in desperate need of attention.

At half past eight, Hiro hears the front door locks click open. He stays situated on the couch, watching as Alistair feels around for the light switch and calls out his name, curious.

“Finally,” Hiro breathes out, annoyed. “Welcome home, _Daddy_.”

* * *

Alistair receives Hiro’s text when he’s in a meeting, which is incredibly inappropriate but he’s not going to complain about that. He opens the attached file under the table and has to remember to breathe normally when it shows his stepson’s naked body. There are dark bruises all along his neck—ones he left there, the night before. It takes everything in him to not jump out of his conference chair and head home that instant.

Admittedly, he is a little confused when he comes home to a dark house. And, also, a little concerned. Hiro is certainly a coveted prize, and Alistair is often paranoid enough to consider, maybe, his competitors have decided to make it personal. If someone were competent enough and quick enough, they could steal Hiro away from him in a matter of seconds.

Of course, he knows that’s absurd; and, lost in the darkness of the living room, his paranoia settles when he hears Hiro’s silky, pitched voice. He sighs with relief. Good. His son is just being his weird self, sitting in the dark, waiting to get fucked. Sometimes, Alistair wonders if he’s simply made Hiro into a hopeless fucktoy, rather than his intended super genius.

“If you want to complain about my work day, perhaps you should actually _go_ to yours,” he sternly replies.

Gogo has informed him, yet again, that Hiro has missed his internship. Although he doesn’t see Hiro during the day for said internship, he feels a little bit more betrayed each time his son doesn’t show up.

“Now, why are you sitting in the dark?”

Hiro looks absolutely desperate, which isn’t anything new, but it still hits Alistair like the San Fransokyo metro train. He’s even got a little tent in his pants, and he catches a glimpse of some pornography on the screen of Hiro’s phone. At that, Alistair smirks.

“Couldn’t even wait for me?” he teases as he slumps on the couch next to Hiro and pulls his son into his lap. “I know you didn’t wake up before noon.”

To Hiro, Alistair smells like a mix of coffee and that weird, aggravating office building scent that plagues Krei Tech. Faintly, though, Hiro can still smell the man’s cologne. It’s comforting. It reminds him of the early mornings, when he hears his father getting ready for the day. Hiro doesn’t mean to whine as pathetically as he does when Alistair pulls him into his lap, but he does, and it evokes a chuckle from the older man.

“Well, you didn’t respond to my text,” Hiro promptly complains. “You’ve never once sent me anything good. Christ. I thought all men knew how to at least take pictures of their dicks.”

Hiro slouches against Alistair’s chest and sighs, heavily. He’s restless, for which Alistair would sympathize, except it’s no one’s fault but Hiro’s. He’s the one who hasn’t left the apartment. Alistair suspects the presence of another human being reminds Hiro that, yes, the world is still turning below sixty storeys of this gorgeous expanse of a building.

“Anyway, I told you Gogo is a bitch,” Hiro then complains with a roll of his eyes. “She doesn’t even care about robotics, and she shoots down everything I suggest.”

Hiro finds her insufferable, really. Even if she weren’t leading his internship, their personalities would clash in any situation, and he’d rather not drive himself insane over some internship he didn’t even want in the first place. His father pushed him into it. It’s a great opportunity, sure—but, Hiro doesn’t need opportunities when he has the entire Krei Tech fortune going, to him. Alistair knows he thinks this, too. It’s been a difficult mindset to shake from the boy. Among other things.

For a while, the pair fall into silence, and Hiro absentmindedly plays with Alistair’s tie. His father looks exhausted, and the circles under his eyes do an incredible job of making Hiro feeling guilty for how he’s been spending his days. Hiro pulls at the tie, guiding his father close as he lets their mouths hover.

“Is everything all set, for tomorrow?” he asks, curiously. “I’ll go, if you insist. I mean, I do like seeing new tech. And, I know you like when I’m around, so all your associates can see how nice and smart and cute your stepson is.”

Alistair laughs. Hiro is still playing with his tie, and the boy’s hands are so small and delicate that Alistair can’t resist reaching up to wrap his fingers around his son’s wrists. He brings them up to his mouth, kissing Hiro’s knuckles and worshiping the very body that houses Hiro’s soul.

Sometimes, Alistair regrets that he never took part in creating someone like Hiro. Would they have the same relationship, were they to be real father and son? He honestly doubts he’d ever be able to stay away.

“It’s always entertaining to watch you dress up,” he teases, lightly, and he brings Hiro’s arms up to wrap around his neck. He can feel Hiro grinding against him, subconsciously, and groans. “I want you to go. It would do you good to get out of this house, too.”

Hiro looks guilty and pouty. Krei merely smiles and kisses his son’s lips. Hiro’s mouth is so much smaller, and he’s like a tiny, desperate child when he gasps and forces a deeper kiss. He’s been waiting all day; he’s so needy.

Alistair grips under Hiro’s ass and rises with ease because his son is so small and weighs practically nothing. They don’t stop kissing until they get to the bedroom, where Alistair takes off his tie and suit jacket.

“I’ll leave more marks on you,” he breathes against Hiro’s neck when he dives back down to kiss it. “They’ll all know how much you love getting fucked, won’t they?”

Hiro moans. He loves it when Alistair leaves marks on him where other people can see. Gogo has seen them; she once made a comment about his need to convey professionalism, even if he’s entitled to a private life. He hadn’t held back his laughter. Whether or not she knows the truth behind his relationship with his stepfather is up for debate, but the remark had been hysterical, to him.

“What did you think when I sent you that photo?” he teases, pulling at Alistair’s belt and allowing the man to kiss his neck to leave marks wherever he pleases. Hiro slips a hand into Alistair’s pants, and it’s warm beneath the fabric, hot. He groans, inwardly, when he feels the outline of his father’s cock. “Did it make you hard?”

Hiro smirks to himself, envisioning his father’s awkward hard-on in the middle of some important business meeting. His colleagues probably watched him glance at his phone, assuming the text was an urgent matter of importance regarding the company.

Hiro is still hard from his lazy pornographic searches, and he makes sure his father is aware of this when he arches his back. Hiro removes his hand just long enough so the two of them can strip from the remainder of their clothing. When Alistair moves him further up the bed, he’s obedient, even spreading his legs and positioning them on either side of the larger body.

“Well?” Hiro presses.

“I thought you were a bad little boy,” he finally replies, and Hiro’s cock twitches. Alistair reaches to rub the tip of his finger across the head, smearing the bead of precome there, and he marvels at how his palm encases almost all of Hiro’s cock. “I thought about leaving and coming home early so I could take you like you deserve.”

Alistair considers that, even if, by some small chance, a coworker had seen Hiro’s naked body on his phone, he has enough money to pay off the narc and every person at the wireless company. He can make sure their relationship stays secret and, while it hurts that it has to be secret in the first place, Alistair knows there’s no other option.

After all, Hiro is fourteen and his stepson. Alistair should be trying to awkwardly make attempts at a fatherly relationship, maybe bribing Hiro into it with gifts and food. Instead, he’s pulling Hiro’s legs apart and appreciating how he still looks well-fucked from last night.

Hiro’s brow knits together as he watches his father shuffle down the bed. “Hurry,” he pants out.

Alistair adjusts the smaller body until Hiro’s thighs are perched on his shoulders. He then makes sure Hiro is spread as wide as possible before flicking his tongue over his son’s hole. It’s dirty, filthy; he loves how Hiro tastes, how hot he is there and how it makes him whimper. Hiro is bare and smooth and perfect, and they both know he practices to make sure he can fit all his father’s cock.

“You love this so much,” Alistair whispers.

His tongue dives into Hiro, and the boy’s hips jut forward. Alistair moans because of how much he adores fucking his son with his mouth. He pulls away to a heated groan from Hiro and plays at his hole with his thumb. Hiro could come just by this alone—he has before, without Alistair ever having touched his cock. He still remembers the look on his father’s face: Shocked, impressed, oddly satisfied. Hiro’s eyes close as he lets out a moan, dropping a hand down to brush at Alistair’s sandy hair.

“Why are you so insatiable?” Alistair then taunts. “How many times do you need to get fucked before you stop acting like such a dirty slut?"

It’s been routine, lately. Hiro plays the part of the lonely, abandoned pseudo-housewife, and Alistair comes home from the office, frustrated but eager to tend to the needs of his plaything. It should be boring, by now; but, it’s not. There’s too much thrill in their relationship, and Hiro revels in every aspect of it. Even if the only motivation for leaving the penthouse is to see how those around them will react to his marks, it’s good enough, for him.

Hiro’s grip on Alistair’s hair tightens, and he pulls the man up, their eyes—both inflamed—meeting.

“Hurry up and fuck me.”

Alistair kisses him, hard and desperate and moaning into his son’s mouth. It’s filthy, the idea of Hiro tasting himself all over his father’s tongue, and yet, there’s something sweet and innocent about how Hiro cries out when Alistair pushes a finger inside him. Hiro’s mouth goes agape, and he whimpers so breathlessly, and Alistair can’t help but understand why men get arrested just to see this face on a boy.

Hiro easily takes two fingers, and he clenches to show his father how ready he is to take his cock.

“Feel good?” Alistair murmurs.

Hiro nods as he reaches for the lube on the nightstand and pushes it into his father’s hands. Teasingly, Alistair spreads a few drops along the length of his cock; not too slick but not sparing. It’s amazing the way Hiro opens up for him, and he looks so beautiful taking in every inch of his father.

“ _Nngh_ , fuck—more.”

Alistair’s jaw drops open from the constriction. Hiro’s skin around his father’s cock is white and stretched thin. Inside, Hiro’s warmth is unbearably fantastic. Hiro quivers, shakes and moans, so Alistair silences him by leaning in to kiss away his noises.

“Want me to go hard, or slow?” he whispers against his son’s lips.

Hiro wants it hard. _God,_ he loves it when Alistair holds him down and fucks him, deep and rough and unyielding. Nothing else compares to how delightfully broken he feels, afterward. He’ll gasp for air, numb everywhere, and his father will collect him in his arms, kissing at his forehead and telling him how good he is, how perfect. Hiro’s been spiraling with frustration for most of the week, and he has bruises on his wrists and thighs to prove it. But, tonight, he thinks he might like something gentler. Heated, heavy—but, ultimately, slow.

Another kiss, another groan. Hiro’s teeth pull at his father’s bottom lip, and he smiles up at him, eyes half-lidded. 

“Slow,” he answers in a pant. “Nice and slow, Daddy.”

He swears he can feel Alistair’s cock twitch inside him, upon hearing the title. Hiro’s smirk remains, smug and overjoyed, and he rolls his hips into the man’s, taking in more of his cock.

“F-Fuck—oh, God,” Alistair curses. “You’re so tight, Hiro. So little. _Christ_.”

Hiro throws his head back, letting out some swears himself when he feels his father really begin to move. Their bodies press close, their mouths connect, and Hiro loses himself in the sensation of how good it feels to be stretched and fucked. Nice and slow, he thinks. His father gives it, to him, exactly how he wants, whenever he wants. His legs are shaking, and he’s already so close to his limit that it’d be embarrassing if it weren’t so damn good.

Alistair pulls back onto his knees so that he can grab Hiro’s hips and fuck into him from a different angle. His hands spread across Hiro’s abdomen so well. Alistair’s cock is probably a full fourth of Hiro’s entire body width. Hiro’s spindly legs go up to his father’s shoulders, and Alistair allows his hips to do most of the work.

He’s going slowly, still, but each thrust is rough and hard. He pulls all the way out before slamming his way back in, until he can’t possibly go any further. Hiro is better than any woman, Alistair reminds himself; Hiro has no limit. Alistair can’t hit Hiro’s inner walls, because they don’t exist. He can go as deep as he wants, for as long as he wants.

Alistair doesn’t want Hiro to be able to walk tomorrow. A visible limp, so everyone knows exactly what happened, to him. Fucked hard, used like a whore and thrown aside.

It’s time to stop caring about what Hiro wants. Alistair grabs his son and pins him down, setting his knees firmly on the mattress. Alistair doesn’t care that Hiro is at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. He just thrusts, mindlessly, into Hiro’s tight ass. Hard and fast, like Hiro is nothing but his little toy. Something to collect his seed and thank him for it.

“ _Daddy_ —!”

Hiro’s voice cracks, and he practically thrashes under the intensity of his father’s movements. His small cock leaks onto his stomach, and Alistair can feel his own cock swelling. He’s close.

“Oh, my God,” Hiro gasps. “Daddy, _please_.”

Naturally loud, Hiro doesn’t hold back when he yells through his orgasm. It hits him hard, fast, and Alistair is holding him down so that he has to take every bit of his father’s come. Hiro feels entirely lost as his hands grasp the sweaty sheets. Hiro is leaking when Alistair pulls out, and it’s enough to almost have the man going hard again. It’s fucking filthy. All the depraved words, all the harsh treatment and disregard for his requests. It’s everything Hiro loves, really—and, of course, his father knows exactly how to please him.

“My dirty little boy,” he praises between heavy breaths. “Was that good, baby?”

For a long moment, Hiro is unable to move. His body is shaking, and it barely registers with him that his father has gotten up to dampen a rag in the bathroom. He cleans up the mess on Hiro’s thighs and stomach. It should a loving gesture. In some ways, Hiro knows it is executed as such. But, the man is also concerned about keeping his expensive satin sheets free of jizz stains.

Alistair returns to the bed and helps him under said sheets. Despite the pain, Hiro finds the energy to move. His legs are wobbly, strained, but he curls up against his father and exhales.

“So good, Daddy,” he says, voice hazy. After another moment, Hiro laughs to himself. “I hope some magazine takes one of those fancy photos of us, tomorrow night.”

His subsequent smile is almost maniacal, and he suddenly can’t wait to leave the penthouse for the expo.

“You can hold me by the hip, and we’ll look so normal, like a regular ole father and son,” he continues. “I bet some people will know. They’ll see it.”

Alistair is quiet before he finally replies. “You know I’d tell them all, if I could,” he assures him.

Hiro grins, sleepily, and it’s humorous how the boy is ready to fall asleep even after sleeping all day. Hiro is the type to get absolutely exhausted after a good fuck. It’s endearing, really.

The boy eventually nods off, and Alistair carefully crawls out of bed to cover up his son with a blanket. He stands there afterward, just staring. Hiro’s hair is a mess, jet black and full and drifting across his face. His skin is smooth and flawless. His little hand is on the pillow, curled in on itself.

Hiro is beautiful. His son is beautiful. Alistair wishes he could tell the world just how deeply he’s falling for this perfect, gorgeous boy.

* * *

Tadashi Hamada has been working for six hours straight. He would stop to go eat, or sleep—he really, really would, he tells himself—but, Baymax just needs a few finishing touches before the expo, tomorrow. Talk about last minute. He just barely gets the last coupling on the hydraulic left arm when Robert walks through the lab door.

Tadashi turns, shirtless and sweaty and smeared in just a little bit of grease. Suddenly, he’s very glad he made the decision to be half-dressed. He watches Robert look up and down his form, eyes spending a particular amount of time on the dark hickey at his neck, and Tadashi’s lower stomach trills with satisfaction and excitement.

Without a word of greeting, Tadashi bounds over to his professor and jumps at him, wrapping his arms around Robert in a tight hug. He definitely looks silly, especially with such a huge smile on his face, but seeing Robert’s pretty blue eyes always makes him feel like he’s worth the world.

“He’s _almost_ done," Tadashi says, pulling away to kiss Robert’s cheek. “A few more adjustments, then I’ll slip on the vinyl. He should be ready to go by tomorrow—no problem.”

Robert laughs, a bit nervous, before he moves to step away from Tadashi. He pats the man’s shoulders in good nature and reaches up to wipe some of the grease from his face. Tadashi’s well-sculpted body is distracting, as per usual. It’s a wonder, to Robert, how the younger man even finds the time to work out, considering his round the clock attention to school, to Baymax.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you about the expo,” Robert says, only half-joking. “I didn’t intend for you to work yourself to death. When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

At that, Robert raises his arm back up, showing Tadashi the plastic bag he’s carrying. Takeout from one of the sushi joints nearby campus. He’s seen Tadashi scarf down enough rolls and nigiri to know his favorites. Salmon skin, unagi, crab.

“I figured you’d forget to eat,” he explains. “I brought dinner.”

Tadashi shows his appreciation with another chaste kiss to the cheek before he moves to properly wash himself up. He insists he was just about to take a break, and Robert rolls his eyes, still smiling.

In just his second semester at SFIT, Tadashi Hamada has proven himself to be quite the dedicated student. Too dedicated, Robert thinks, because he doesn’t always know when he needs to take a step back; but, somehow, he’s managed to stay just over the line of unhealthily obsessed.

They sit at the lab bench to eat the meal while Tadashi explains, excitedly, about the last set of work he needs to perform on the nurse bot. It’s difficult for Robert not to keep the fond smile on his face. Tadashi’s energy is, and always has been, infectious.

“Although I did come here to make sure you remained properly fed,” Robert soon says, carefully; “I must admit that I had other reasons, as well.”

Tadashi raises a brow. “Reasons?” he echoes. “As in, plural, huh? Want to elaborate?"

His tone is somewhat mischievous—of course it is—and, to keep himself focused, Robert has to drop his gaze.

Getting involved with a student hasn’t been the wisest choice he’s made in his lifetime. Robert thinks, for the most part, he’s done a decent job keeping his emotions at bay. It’s dangerous, after all. He doubts anyone would care enough to report them, but he still tries to be careful. Having his own name smeared across the news would be one thing, but he’d never want anyone to believe Tadashi earned his creditability by sleeping with his robotics professor. He’s too young, too talented, to be dismissed that way.

“I’m—excited for you to go, tomorrow,” he starts, and it’s embarrassing how he stutters, because he’s already had this conversation with himself a dozen times on the way over. “I wouldn’t have told you about the expo if I didn’t want something to become of it. But, I want you to be careful. Krei Tech isn’t exactly all it’s cracked up to be, Tadashi.”

Tadashi places down his chopsticks and tries to read Robert’s expression. It’s carefully arranged in a way that Tadashi isn’t used to seeing. In Tadashi’s research of his professor, which isn’t hard to find, considering he’s so world renowned, he’s found a lot of criticism relating to Krei Tech. Robert is certainly more of a PC guy, and so is Tadashi, to an extent. But, depending on how the expo goes, Krei Tech could give him a patent as early as next week, and the prospect is undeniably exciting. 

“Yeah,” Tadashi voices. He reaches out to grab at his professor’s hand, clasping it atop the counter. “I know. I promise I won’t be, like, a total sellout, okay? Besides, it’s not like I want to dropout, or anything. I love SFIT. I love college."

He’s talking about more than his college career, and they both know it. Tadashi can’t say he’s exactly in love with Robert—or, that he has any feelings, at all—but, he really does enjoy the attention. The sex. 

_God_ , the sex… Tadashi knows he’s young and inexperienced; but, right now, he can’t imagine being fucked by anyone else. Robert makes him feel so goddamn incredible, makes him come with hardly any effort. It’s amazing.

Back during the very first day of class, when they had made eye contact during roll call and Tadashi had blushed furiously at being recognized by Robert fucking Callaghan, he knew he was doomed. Even more so when, weeks later, he approached Robert after hours and asked for some help, biting his lip too much and sliding his hand over Robert’s knee.

Much like he decides to do again, now. Robert watches Tadashi’s roaming hand and tries not to get too distracted.

They act so sweet together, but they both know Robert can pound him over a desk better than anyone. For Tadashi, the prospect of his first gay encounter had been too much to pass up. Something as taboo as a professor/student relationship, with someone as important as Robert? It had been Tadashi’s dream come true.

He knows he’s lucky. Not just _anyone_ gets into Robert Callaghan’s bed. He’d be stupid to give that up for a contract with Krei Tech.

Robert is still averting his gaze when he speaks again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, use this expo as an exercise to make connections,” he explains. “Connections that—aren’t necessarily with Krei Tech.”

He doesn’t want to get into the all the sordid details of Krei Tech and its founder and CEO, Alistair Krei. That man has been bad news since day one and, frankly, Robert would like to forget most of their history. He’s done a fairly good job avoiding the more personal details of the man’s life, although there had been no escaping the news that Alistair had married some unknown socialite. Robert remembers seeing her photo, and she was certainly attractive, beautiful—but, the marriage confused him. The poor woman had died not even a year into their marriage, and it’d be suspicious, Robert thinks, if she hadn’t been worth absolutely nothing. The last Robert heard, Alistair was stuck with a stepson.

Robert wonders if any of his advice is really getting through, to Tadashi. The student’s hands are awfully busy, and Robert has to resist batting them away. It’s charming, just how infatuated Tadashi is with him. Flattering, too. But, it’s complicated.

“I’m sure there are plenty of associates from Krei Tech who are good, respectable people,” he then advises. “As for Alistair Krei himself, I’d keep my guard up. He lacks principles, and I’d hate to see you exploited by someone like that. You deserve better. Baymax deserves better, Tadashi.”

He means every last word. Baymax is an exceptional creation. There’s no doubt Tadashi is bound to make millions, one day. Baymax will save lives and revolutionize the world.

“I wish I could attend with you,” Robert then admits. “Unfortunately, I can’t cancel on my tutoring session. This poor girl is already near hopeless. She needs all the help she can get.”

Robert hates the thought of Tadashi all alone, surrounded by corrupt Krei Tech employees. Tadashi would probably be thrilled to meet Alistair Krei, and Robert tries not to get too caught up in jealousy, because he knows it’s only natural for someone in Tadashi’s field. But, still. He can’t help but silently pray Tadashi doesn’t find himself being introduced to the CEO.

“I promise to trust your judgment,” Tadashi simply says, driving the point home as he hops up on the lab bench and maneuvers Robert between his legs.

“Competitors always attend these sort of expos,” Robert goes on to say. “Perhaps getting chummy with some of them, rather than anyone recruiting directly from Krei Tech, is what you should focus on.”

Tadashi gives Robert a pointed look, one that suggests he _gets it_ , and that they should be moving on to more pressing matters. But, the more Robert persists, the more it becomes obvious that his professor is just that: His professor. A mentor. In most situations, Tadashi finds this attractive; but, sometimes, he really just wants to have a human connection. It shouldn’t matter the age gap. Tadashi is eighteen, anyway. It’s legal. But, Robert has also told him he’s never been with a student before.

Pushing all the thrill and possessiveness that comes with that aside, Tadashi can see how the man would be unsure how to handle it. Tadashi himself is unsure; he hadn’t even given a man a handjob before he came to college.

“Seriously,” Tadashi tells him. “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll run everything by you, first.”

Finally, Robert visibly relaxes, and Tadashi smirks, knowing, now, he can pull Robert into a needy kiss. Robert doesn’t deny the kiss, but he does pull away faster than Tadashi anticipates. 

“I shouldn’t keep you.”

Tadashi shakes his head and kisses at Robert’s chin, his neck. “I’m not tired,” he assures him. “Really. It’s fine.”

There’s a hint of desperation in both the younger man’s words and movements, and it unnerves Robert. It’s that reality, yet again, of what he’s doing with a student. Robert hadn’t ever considered it—not really, anyway. There had been, of course, the vague fantasy—it’s a common enough occurrence, after all—but, he’s never shared any sort of connection with a student before, either. Tadashi Hamada is intellectual, driven; and, while Tadashi’s attachment, to him, has recently made Robert cautious of his own actions, it’s been difficult to dismiss the intimacy.

The younger man gives another persuasive groan as he urges him closer. Robert sighs. He’d love nothing more than to stay late with Tadashi, helping him with the last stage of work on Baymax and relieving him of all the day’s stress.

But, Robert has to draw the line somewhere. He thinks putting his foot down to sex in the lab is a good start.

“You need all the rest you can get, before tomorrow,” Robert insists, pulling away from Tadashi’s eager touches. 

He smiles, softly, and grazes Tadashi’s cheek with his thumb. He tries not to look at that attractive, satisfying hickey. It pains Robert how crushed Tadashi looks at the rejection, so he leans forward and offers another kiss.

“Call me, afterward,” he says. “Hell, call me during it, if you feel out of place. Just... Remember what I said, okay? You’re remarkable, Mr. Hamada. Don’t let some big wig take advantage of you.”

* * *

It’s nearing seven o’clock, and Tadashi is already tired as all hell.

He considers, _okay_ , Robert was probably in the right by denying him sex, last night; but, _still…_ His exhaustion would be a lot more worthwhile, had he at least gotten laid.

The expo is predictably crowded and posh as all hell. Tadashi is wearing the tuxedo that Robert helped him buy, because it’s not as if he traveled to college prepared for something like this. It fits him flawlessly; Robert paid to have him fitted, and Tadashi knows he’s gotten a few hungry stares so far. It’s encouraging, but Tadashi isn’t exactly interested.

He hasn’t seen Krei, yet. He’s assuming no one has. They took Baymax at the beginning when he arrived and put the robot on display via his instructions. Tadashi has a presentation in an hour, which leaves him plenty of time to mingle.

Just hovering around Baymax’s display allows him to see just how impressive everyone finds him. Tadashi hides his proud smile by sipping at his glass of champagne. The waiters didn’t check his I.D. when they walked past with trays full, so he took it upon himself to calm his own nerves.

Baymax interacts with the audience even though it’s not time for his presentation. He’s been encased in glass so he doesn’t rush to help someone who is coughing too hard, and Tadashi has to remind himself that Baymax can’t actually feel and isn’t insulted by that. Baymax answers questions, and even displays his abilities. Everyone seems enthralled.

Tadashi keeps his distance, though. He doesn’t want to make it obvious that he’s the creator. He wants genuine feedback that isn’t tainted by bias. So, he stays back from the crowd and listens. Waits. Their reactions have him glowing.

* * *

The expo is packed with all sorts of people: Tech guros, investors, budding inventors. Even the socialites, who always twist an ugly reminder in Hiro’s stomach, make their usual appearance. They all dress like his mother did, feigning fortune with easy color schemes and vague designs that cannot be named by brand. Hiro frowns when he sees a particular set of women looking through the expo’s pamphlet, pointing at a photo of Alistair and giggling. He’s not particularly threatened by them, but the jealousy still sparks. He hates when anyone gazes at his father with that sort of lust. Hell, he hated his mother, for it.

Hiro can still taste this father on his lips. Alistair may not have needed a proper reminder about who can please him best, but Hiro wanted to make sure his father understood that, at the end of the night, it’s the two of them who will be leaving together. And, so, on the drive to the expo, in the privacy of the back of the limo, Hiro had slid into the man’s lap, whispering all sorts of pleasured phrases until he bent down and took his father’s cock down his throat.

No one except Hiro will notice the strain of hair that is now unkempt on Alistair, and that’s exactly how the boy wants it—unlike the line of marks on his own neck, which he shamelessly allows on display, despite his father’s embarrassed, last minute attempts to make him wear an ascot. _Yeah, right._ The fucking suit is bad enough.

Bored, Hiro slumps against one of the pillars and sips at the glass of champagne he snagged from the servers. Everyone knows who he is, knows his age, but no one is brave enough to deny him. Hiro smirks, proudly, when the group of women from before glance over at him before huddling closer together and whispering.

None of tech has interested him, thus far. It’s all boring shit. Nothing revolutionary. Nothing worth investing. He’s certain his father must feel the same.

It’s only when he starts to really explore the floor that he finds something of interest. 

A robot.

Large, round, perhaps made of vinyl. There’s already a large crowd in front of the display. Hiro raises a brow. It’s... impressive. A sort of medical bot, it seems. Hiro is intrigued enough that he grabs one of the pamphlets from an associate and reads over the project’s summary.

BAYMAX.

Hiro is just about to fetch his father when he notices a man, standing just outside the large crowd. He has this doofy smile on his face, eyes wide. He’s young. Probably a freshman in college, or something. There’s something about the way he’s dressed in his suit that makes Hiro think the guy probably has no clue how to hold himself. The suit fits, sure; but, there’s not a lot of confidence there. Just giddy excitement. He’s probably the inventor.

“Is that thing yours?” Hiro asks, calmly. He slinks closer to the man, who is tall and broad-shouldered. When the stranger glances down at him, the expression is only half-confused, and Hiro guesses he has no idea what was just said. “Baymax. You invented it, right?”

Hiro’s subsequent smile is sly and, when their eyes actually meet, there’s a distinct desire to play a game he learned, long ago, from his mother.

* * *

Tadashi turns and sees a kid. At least, judging by his height; he can’t be too much younger than him, though, because it’s supposed to be an eighteen-plus show. College students and up. He must just be really short and small. 

But, he’s got this look in his eye. It makes Tadashi blush, and he doesn’t know what that means. He’s interested in Baymax—that must be it. 

“Um, yeah.” He clears his throat and looks toward Baymax. “He’s supposed to be my robotics project, but my professor entered him.”

Geez. The kid looks really rich. He’s got a really expensive suit and shiny shoes, and he knows how to wear them. The jacket hugs his waist so perfectly, and Tadashi can only imagine how snug his vest must be, too. His eyes catch a large, purple bruise on the side of his neck which is surrounded by about six others. Tadashi swallows. If he weren’t finding it hard to breathe, he might sharply inhale, at that. 

“I’m Tadashi,” he quickly says as if he should have said it already. “I mean, you know that, ’cause it’s on the pamphlet and everything. But, um—hi.”

 _Christ._

Why is he so anxious, all the sudden? Maybe he’s not really cut out for this, if he can’t even talk to one person about his own invention. But, the boy is either charmed or amused, because he raises his wrist to shake the man’s hand.

“Hiro,” he replies, a voice filled with confidence. “Nice to meet you.”

Hiro turns away, taking a sip of his champagne and glancing over at the crowd. 

Baymax is fascinating. Hiro prefers tech that is as interactive as possible, and Baymax fits the bill. The large, balloon-like robot is cute, too, but he’s not going to admit that, to Tadashi. He’d much rather make fun of him, for it. 

When he turns back to Tadashi, he catches the man staring. At his neck. Pride swells within Hiro as he makes no conscious effort to hide the marks. Instead, he just tilts his head and smiles back up at him.

“Gosh, you’re just a student,” he sighs out, purposely dramatic. “First year, I’m guessing.”

Tadashi gives an uneasy smile, but it is genuine. He just wishes he could figure if he’s being patronized.

“I guess your professor must really believe in your project,” Hiro continues. He makes a thoughtful noise and clanks his fingernails against the thin glass of his champagne flute. “Probably paid a lot of money to get you in, too. Krei Tech doesn’t just accept any entry, you know.”

“Um, yeah,” Tadashi answers. He flushes unintentionally and, suddenly, the bruise on his own neck feels very prominent. For some reason, he doesn’t want Hiro to see it, despite having previously been so proud. “Professor Callaghan sponsored me.”

Robert had done a lot of kissing to get Tadashi to stop asking how much entering the expo had cost. Already, Baymax’s initial parts have been free, since the university pays for tools and supplies, but Tadashi can’t fathom how much money he’s actually spent, by now. Thousands. He lives with his aunt out in the country, where they raise goats. He remembers thinking he struck gold the first time he saw his scholarship money.

“I’m just excited to help people,” Tadashi continues. He doesn’t want to make it seem like Robert is his only reason for being here. “I mean, I wanna get a patent. Baymax really friendly, you know? That’s why I made him look kind of like a marshmallow. And, he’s got over ten thousand medical procedures, so he could pretty much be put anywhere and end up making a difference.”

Hiro scoffs. “I know, Tadashi,” he says. “I read the pamphlet.”

Tadashi flushes, and it’s even more embarrassing, because Hiro _is_ being patronizing. It’s infuriating but also kind of—

_—well._

Well, Hiro is cute. And, he’s small, which is something Tadashi never considered when thinking what would attract his attention about men. Just from being with Robert, Tadashi has learned he loves to be held down, dominated. But, when he glances at Hiro, his mind’s eye fills in the blanks, and he thinks about how well the boy would fit in his lap. 

God.

He wonders why Hiro is here in the first place and guesses he must have something in the expo, too.

“So… Where’s your display?”

“I don’t have a display,” he tells him, placing his champagne glass on a nearby table. He’s quick to grab another one when one of the servers walks by them. By now, he can feel the effects pretty well. “I just come to these things so I can watch people crash and burn. None of this shit is good enough for Krei Tech.”

Tadashi’s reaction is slow. There’s confusion, firstly; followed by hurt and, finally, a flash of offense. Hiro laughs. This Tadashi guy is sort of hilarious. He’s got this stupidly charming quality about him, and it doesn’t help that he’s handsome as all hell.

Someone clearly agrees, because he has a bruise on his neck. It’s as obvious as it is messy, and Hiro almost wants to roll his eyes. Some giggling girl probably gave it, to him, before sending her beloved boyfriend off for the night. She probably picked out his suit, too.

“You should prove me wrong,” Hiro taunts with a shrug. He gestures over to the front of the crowd, where some of the crew is starting to clear the area. “You’re up next, aren’t you? So, come on. Prove how _good_ you are, Tadashi.”

The words are laced with so much more meaning. Tadashi catches it and his complexion inflames the same way it did, only moments earlier, when he mentioned Robert. Before Tadashi has a chance to reply, Hiro is slinking off again, and Tadashi almost feels like he’s been approached by a witch in the deep, dark woods, tempting him with a poisonous apple.

It’s a bit paranoid and ridiculous, but Tadashi now has an odd feeling in his stomach.

Nervousness, he thinks; and, maybe, something else. 

But, it’s his turn. He scrambles up behind his display and gets wired up with a microphone by the tech crew. The lights that shine on him are almost comically bright, but he reminds himself that Baymax is worth it. He’s good enough and has already stolen most of the attention from the expo.

He’s never been nervous in front of crowds. The possible presence of a mysterious boy shouldn’t change that. 

* * *

Gogo Tomago trades glances between her tablet and Hiro Takachiho-Krei. The kid is talking up one of the exhibitors, leaning in close and gesturing around with his flute of champagne. It’s not the first time he’s been sighted consuming alcohol; unfortunately, Gogo has seen this one too many times at Krei Tech functions. Anything she says to try and intervene with the kid’s behavior is dismissed, anyway. Alistair has zero fucking clue how to parent. It’d be humorous, she thinks, if it weren’t so damn annoying, if Hiro’s complete lack of giving a shit didn’t interfere with her own job. Gogo quietly curses, to herself, and tries not to think about the extra work she has to do, thanks to Hiro not showing up yet again.

It’s clear that the fourteen year-old is tipsy, but Gogo still finds it interesting he’s bothered to interact with anyone, at all. She’s gotten the impression he’s rather antisocial, which has probably contributed to his lack of ambition toward the internship. Alistair seems to spoil his stepson, too, which doesn’t help matters.

The interaction goes on long enough that Gogo becomes curious about the exhibitor. She didn’t have much to do with tonight’s event, but she remembers reading through some of the submissions. Tadashi Hamada’s name only vaguely rings a bell. Apparently, he’s just a freshman at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. Her own alma mater. Tadashi is a robotics major. His project, a nurse bot, is still in development, but even Gogo can see how impressive the robot is for a someone so young. He must’ve started working on Baymax as soon as the semester started. Maybe even earlier.

Hiro is busy batting his eyes and smiling at the older student. It’s unmistakably flirtatious, and Gogo is almost worried until she sees how uneasy Tadashi behaves in return. Hiro lacks subtly. She still hasn’t quite figured out where he’s gotten those ever-present hickeys on his neck, but it always makes more sense whenever she watches the boy charm older men—and, he does so frequently. Hiro’s probably only attended six of his internship dates, and she’s willing to bet an entire year’s salary that he’s hit on every man at Krei Tech.

Eventually, Hiro walks away and Gogo watches as Tadashi stands alone for a moment. He appears lost, overwhelmed, and he doesn’t start moving until the lights near the display start adjusting.

Hiro is probably off to find his father, but Gogo decides to intervene. Plus, she still hasn’t had the opportunity to properly chide him for missing his internship again.

“I hope you’re not scaring off potential business partners,” she warns him, snatching the glass of champagne away. “I’m surprised you’re even here. Shouldn’t you be off, doing whatever it is you do that has you so preoccupied from your internship?”

Hiro glares. “I’m not scaring off anyone,” he defends. His eyes follow the alcohol as she keeps it out of his reach. “In fact, I was helping. I think my father might find Baymax quite profitable.”

Hiro snatches back the half-empty flute, and Gogo sees the trademark bruises on his neck, darker than ever. Fresh. She’s wondered more than once whether they were worth bringing up to Alistair, but the thought leaves her uneasy. It’s not as if the man doesn’t see them himself, and it’s often that realization that disturbs her enough to want to forget about her concern entirely.

When Tadashi’s presentation begins, Hiro surprises her by moving forward in the crowd. Gogo watches the stage light up, only half-paying attention while she keeps an eye on Hiro. Tadashi introduces himself and his project, which he gestures to just as the tech crew deactivates the glass window.

Baymax turns its small, round head to look over at its creator, and Tadashi smiles. He is clearly attached to his project.

“How many times have you waited in an emergency room to get treated, and it’s taken hours to be seen?” he starts off, and Gogo allows herself another glance at Hiro, who hasn’t taken his eyes off the stage. She decides to work her way through the crowd, too. “It’s a pretty big complaint. My first idea for Baymax came when I had to wait two hours for someone to see me about my broken toe.”

That garners an unexpected chuckle or two, which makes appears to make Tadashi’s confidence soar. He grins and waves his hands in presentation. 

“I thought: What if we could have some self-checkout system for hospitals? Doctor’s offices? Something that could see patients right away to help before professionals get there? And, that’s where Baymax came from.”

Admittedly, there is something charismatic about Tadashi. He’s not smug or full of himself like so many other young inventors. He seems modest. And, there’s no denying just how impressive Baymax is and its potential.

Now beside Hiro, Gogo gazes down at him and comments: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so interested in something.”

Hiro offers a flat expression. “That’s because you’re a terrible internship leader, and I’m bored to _death_ any time you try and teach me shit.”

Gogo could hit him, for that. Really, does Hiro talk to his father like that? Does Alistair _allow_ it? She folds her arms over her tablet, visibly annoyed.

“Christ, you’re a spoiled brat,” she remarks, mostly to herself, but she knows the boy must’ve heard it.

“Baymax,” Tadashi continues on stage; “why don’t you tell them about yourself and what you do?”

“I am Baymax,” the robot introduces, a somehow soothing but drone-like voice. “Your personal healthcare companion. I am programmed with over ten thousand medical procedures to ensure I give the most effective care. I will activate automatically when I hear a sound of distress and can remain active without charge for over ten hours.”

Tadashi grabs his phone and turns on the flashlight, so he can shine it through Baymax’s stomach. The shadows of his inner-workings show, and Tadashi points to them. 

“His core is titanium,” he explains; “and, he runs on lithium ion batteries. _Now,_ if I could have a volunteer, we could demonstrate his ability on a live patient?”

Gogo is still dwelling on Hiro’s attitude problem and only distantly hears Tadashi’s call for a volunteer when she feels her arm being thrown into the air.

“Oh!” Hiro loudly exclaims in exaggerated excitement. “She wants to volunteer!”

_You little shit._

In the next moment, Gogo looks just as lost as Tadashi, who stands on stage, awkwardly, and waits—or, rather, _hopes_ —for the unwilling participant to step forward. The only reason Gogo’s feet start to move is because she can’t stand the pressure of all these people looking at her.

“Um, hi,” Tadashi quietly greets, once she’s made her way up. Gogo doesn’t miss how he stares at her Krei Tech name badge. Then, for the audience to hear, he says: “Would you hold out your arm, please, Miss?”

There’s a roll of duct tape in his hands. He brandishes the tape and points to her arm.

“May I? It’ll sting.”

Gogo thrusts her arm forward, deciding the take the challenge, and Tadashi applies the tape, smoothing it down before, ultimately, tearing it off. She knew the sting was coming—even tried to hold her breath—but, still, she gasps out in pain and even releases a pained swear. 

Baymax, immediately, waddles over, and Gogo’s eyes go wide.

“I was alerted to be of assistance when you gave a sound of distress,” Baymax recites. “What seems to be the problem?”

Gogo is rubbing her arm when Tadashi explains: “Maybe you should scan her to find out.”

Baymax does. The robot’s scanner emits a brief blue light, then turns back to the audience.

“Scan complete. Gogo Tomago. Age: Twenty-four. Blood type: AB negative. Temperature: 98.3 degrees. You appear to have an epidermal abrasion on your right forearm. My suggested treatment is an antibacterial spray, with ice applied to reduce swelling."

By now, Gogo is fascinated. She watches as Baymax outstretches a balloon finger and the tip opens with a small hole through which it sprays a thin layer of antibacterial formula. The crowd seems incredibly impressed, and Tadashi beams.

“As you can see, Baymax has a highly-developed scanning system, which allows him to determine the danger of the situation. If it reaches above a certain level, Baymax will either automatically call 911, or the nearest doctor, if he’s in a facility."

The announcer steps back out and clasps a hand on Tadashi’s shoulder. “Thank you for the wonderful demonstration, Mr. Hamada. We seem to be out of time, so please look in your pamphlets, ladies and gentlemen, for further information on this project.”

There’s a round of applause, and Tadashi offers the crowd a smile and a modest bow. When he turns back to Gogo, he extends his hand.

“Thanks, by the way,” he says. His eyes travel toward where Hiro is standing, and Gogo can tell he’s trying to figure out their relation to one another. “Hope your arm isn’t in too much pain.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Hamada,” she says. “Your invention is impressive.”

Gogo leaves the stage and starts back in the direction of Hiro, wiping the antibacterial spray off her arm and onto her suit jacket. Hiro is laughing.

“Real mature,” Gogo groans, snatching the champagne away from Hiro, once again. This time, she immediately hands it off to one of the servers. “You’ve had enough.”

“Probably,” he agrees; “but, I don’t think you’ve had enough, at all.”

Gogo balks, then frowns at the arrogance Hiro is displaying. His face is flush from the alcohol, but he still sounds like his normal, cocky self. She doesn’t want to admit that Hiro has a point; but, then again, it’s been a painfully dry Friday night, for Gogo.

“Unfortunately, I am going to agree with you there,” she mutters. “I’m getting a drink, kid.”

She’s done with her work for the evening, anyway. Gogo could really go for a rum and coke, but the champagne will have to do. She’s wishes Hiro a good night, then walks away before he has a chance to respond.

* * *

Hiro is enjoying the soft buzz that comes along with champagne. It’s relaxing and pleasant, although he much prefers the white wine that his father lets him have during their dinners.

Tadashi is being hounded by the crowd. He gives nervous laughs and smiles and attempts to answer all their questions. It’s almost strange to see an adult man so overwhelmed, but Hiro reminds himself the guy is only eighteen, and he wonders, distantly, if he’ll look as grown up and mature as Tadashi does, once he’s that age. It’s difficult to picture his thin, childish body filling out in just four years. Hiro’s not even sure he’d like that much. He enjoys being small and seemingly vulnerable. It’s useful. His mother taught him that. One of the few things she taught him, at all, really.

Hiro catches Tadashi glancing over at him before the man quickly looks away, flushed. It’s curious. Tadashi has no idea what he’s doing, or what he’s gotten himself into, which is convenient, he thinks, if Krei Tech decides to invest its time and money into Baymax. Hiro finds himself thinking he’d actually quite like that—if for no other reason than to see Tadashi Hamada more.

Once Tadashi manages to break free from the crowd, Hiro strolls over, head tilted and lips crooked.

“Hmm. Baymax is certainly the bell of the ball,” he remarks. “These people aren’t easily impressed, you know. Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he says, sheepishly. “I had no idea they’d like him so much! It’s really encouraging. I mean, I’ve probably spent half the robotics department’s budget on him.”

Hiro giggles, and Tadashi gives him a confused look. He can smell _a lot_ of champagne on the boy’s breath. Tadashi actually gives a surprised bark of laughter, because, as rich and experienced as Hiro comes across, people aren’t supposed to get _¬drunk_ off complimentary champagne. And, yet, here he is, finding it hysterical that Tadashi spent a few thousand dollars on his robot. What would the kid think if Tadashi told him the truth? That he’s probably only gotten away with the excess spending because of Robert? Hell, one day when they were on one of their outings, Robert paid for all the couplings himself. They’re definitely not dating; but, sometimes, Robert likes to spoil his favorite student.

“So,” Tadashi then says; “how do you know that Krei Tech woman?”

Hiro moves to start walking away from the stage, but he stumbles, and it’s as dramatic as it is chivalrous the way Tadashi throws his arms out to catch the small boy. 

“Woah, Hiro,” Tadashi calls out. The boy is lighter than air. “You okay? Geez. You’re too tiny to be drunk.”

He means it as friendly teasing, and he almost thinks Hiro’s offended look is serious, for a moment. But, it’s surprisingly easy for them to break out into laughter while Tadashi guides him over to a nearby chair.

“You didn’t drive here, did you? I can call a cab for you.”

Hiro scoffs. “Drive?” he echoes, laughing again. How old does Tadashi think he is? “No, I didn’t drive. Thanks, though.”

Hiro considers making a comment about calling Baymax over if he’s so damn worried, but the man offers to fetch him a glass of water and promptly leaves. Alone, the room seems to be swaying, even as he sits, and Hiro realizes that, okay, maybe he did have a bit too much to drink. It’s his father’s fault, he thinks, for ignoring him all night in favor of his stupid job. Hiro digs out his phone and decides it’s time to be given proper attention.

> im boooored  
>  Sent at 8:16 p.m.

> also did u see that baymax thing?? $$$$$ buy it so we can go home   
>  Sent at 8:17 p.m.

Tadashi returns with the glass of water. Even though it’s the simplest of gestures, it’s clear how much the guy genuinely cares about other people. If Hiro were in his position, he would’ve laughed and just walked away, forgetting all about the clumsy, tipsy stranger. Instead, Tadashi Hamada is offering up water and feeling his forehead.

“Thanks,” Hiro murmurs, trying not to focus on how nice Tadashi’s hand feels on his skin. “So, what’s SFIT like?”

Tadashi pulls up a chair next to Hiro and sits. “Overwhelming,” he answers, honestly. “I’m from a pretty small town—way out in the countryside, so I’m not used to city life.”

Hiro expected as much, and Tadashi can tell because of the flat look on the boy’s face. It’s a bit embarrassing. Tadashi can’t wait until he’s completely ingrained within the society surrounding SFIT. That way, he won’t have to worry about questioning looks that are clearly evaluating his intelligence. He wasn’t homeschooled, but his high school was small enough that it might as well have been the same experience. But, that doesn’t mean he’s not smart; he’s more than capable. 

“I do like it, though,” he continues with a fond smile. “It’s exciting, and it’s _so_ weird how no one ever seems to go to bed. There’s lights on all the time. I couldn’t sleep for the first week, ’cause everything was so bright.”

Hiro finds that endearing. It’s refreshing to meet someone so down to earth, so unpolished by the stupid expectations that come with a higher social class. Hiro thinks it’d be nice to be secluded in the countryside. He’s only ever known the city. And, while he and his mother were far from rich while he was growing up, the illusion had always been there, thanks to her jumping between wealthy men so many damn times.

Hiro wonders whether the poor guy has made any real friends yet in this stupid city. He most likely has better housing than most first year students, which would ostracize him from meeting any students his age. He has that hickey on his neck, though, so he’s clearly got something going, for him.

Tadashi catches how Hiro is inspecting the bruise, and he blushes and looks away again. It’s ridiculous. This boy definitely isn’t his type. But, between what Tadashi is starting to think was flirting and Hiro’s cute, sardonic nature, Tadashi feels—well, flattered. It’s nice, he thinks. After all, he did get rejected by Robert, yesterday.

“Why the questions?” Tadashi wonders. “Do you want to apply?”

“I’d kill myself, having to listen to professors all day,” Hiro admits, truthfully. “Christ. I got forced into some dumb internship a few months ago, and it’s fuckin’ pointless. Doing busy work all day and not getting paid. Who the hell invented internships, in the first place?”

It’s nice is to talk to someone completely removed from his personal life. Granted, the only people with whom Hiro regularly converses are his father, Gogo, and the peppy receptionist at Krei Tech, who always tells him how cute he is and offers him baked goods.

“You can probably drop out, once you sell Baymax,” Hiro then says, because there will definitely be an offer. He smirks to himself as he sips his water, which is mostly ice, now. “Marry some hot model and buy a mansion and spend your day playing golf.”

Last year, Krei Tech had its most successful year in its history, and Hiro knows his father is eager to beat those numbers. Baymax would certainly fit the bill, and Hiro suspects Alistair would be more than keen on trying to get Tadashi to work, for him, too. After all, if Tadashi is producing quality inventions like Baymax at the age of eighteen, his potential could very well be unlimited.

But, Tadashi’s modesty has him shaking his head with amusement. “As if,” he defends. “I didn’t even get an offer yet! Besides, I hate golf.”

Even drunk, Tadashi can tell Hiro is his usual bold and abrasive self. Tadashi likes when he can read people right away, then learn to know specifics later. He feels a kind of connection with Hiro that isn’t related to robotics, or school, or forced proximity. Maybe that’s why he’s so flustered and intrigued. 

Also, Hiro is undeniably cute. He’s got a little button nose and wide, brown eyes that seem to notice everything. His lips are thin and pink, small like the rest of him. Tadashi is surprised he’s gravitating toward such a boyish charm.

“So…” Tadashi restarts, hoping his tone isn’t as contrived as he fears. “Where’s your internship? What’s it for?”

Tadashi prays for Hiro to answer with robotics, because that would confirm that they connect on such a level. He’s not imagining this, right?

“It’s not important,” Hiro dismisses with a bored roll of his eyes.

He retrieves his phone from his pocket again, checking to see if his father texted back. Nothing. Not unusual but still annoying. He’d really like to go home and get properly fucked. His father probably hasn’t had anything to drink tonight, which is a shame, because Hiro particularly enjoys the man’s breathless, slurred words of intimacy when he’s had a glass or two of brandy.

“Anyway,” he murmurs; “I think you ought to make your rounds here.” 

Hiro straightens his posture and reaches at Tadashi to help him stand. Once he’s up, he finds his balance well enough.

“No one is gonna want to write a check for a gazillion dollars to some antisocial tuxedo boy who isn’t sucking up to every investor in this goddamn place.”

Tadashi is disappointed, and he knows it must be obvious, because Hiro scoffs again. He wishes he were a professional, so he could hand Hiro a card as he wink and mutters, “Call me.” But, he’s not that suave. He’s the opposite, and it shows as he stutters over words and attempts to formulate a goodbye.

Hiro is already walking away.

It hurts. Maybe more than it should, considering they just met, but Tadashi still feels the sting of another rejection.

Doing as he’s told, Tadashi makes his way around the expo and speaks to more people, answering the same ten questions a million times. Everyone is way too interested in how Baymax will work within actual medical circles. Tadashi would be lying if he said he didn’t want his robot to only exist within homes. That’s where he’s needed—with people who don’t have insurance, who don’t know the difference between mild depression symptoms and a brain tumor. Baymax is better than any hospital assistant. 

By the time he’s done speaking to them, the expo is wrapping up. He’s exhausted. Baymax comments about it before he instructs the robot to deactivate. He probably shouldn’t have stayed so late, because Robert will be in bed and the hopes of being invited over for a chat (and, potentially, a fuck) are now nonexistent. How disappointing. 

As Tadashi leaves, he catches a glimpse of Hiro through the swarm of bodies rushing to catch cabs. Tadashi is about to call out to him when he sees something else: Hiro, being led away from the crowd and into the back of a limo, where an older man follows him. Tadashi’s heart feels numb. 

It’s Alistair Krei. Hiro must be his son.

* * *

Alistair sighs, happily, when Hiro slips into his lap, half-drunk and half-hard. Alistair has had a long night of conversation and boring exhibits. Every expo is tiring, but this one had been too crowded for him to even escape to the bathroom to fuck Hiro in a stall. 

“Did you have a good time?” he purrs, and he can feel Hiro shiver in his arms. A surge of power rushes through him. “I didn’t even see you. I was beginning to wonder if you had left.”

Hiro is already pulling at Alistair’s tie. “Mm, it was okay,” he answers, nosing at his father’s neck. He quite enjoys being able to still smell his cologne. “Did you get my text? I liked that SFIT’s student’s display. Baymax. Literally the only worthwhile project there, tonight.”

Hiro’s teeth graze the more sensitive side of Alistair’s chin. Alistair wants to wait until they’re back home to actually fuck, but there’s no need to resist the affections, until then. His hands are positioned nicely on Hiro’s hips, and he knows Hiro can feel his cock getting hard. The same exhaustion from the previous night is still evident on Alistair’s features, but Hiro isn’t too concerned, now that the expo is over.

Besides, it’s officially the weekend, and Hiro has every intention of keeping his father away from the office on Saturday. He wants to do something fun. Go shopping, or out to dinner.

“I talked, to him, for a bit,” Hiro admits. His fingers slip into the collar of Alistair’s shirt. “He’s real naïve. He’s from the _country_. I bet you could buy him out for a couple of thousand, then reap the benefits.”

Alistair finds it hard to think straight when Hiro is all over him like this, but he manages.

Baymax had been extremely impressive, he agrees. He wants that robot, and hearing Hiro agree is more than encouraging for more than a few reasons; the first being his cock, which gets harder at Hiro’s persuasive tone of voice. 

This has always been their favorite part of Krei Tech events: The end of the night, when everyone else is left behind, unimportant, and it’s just the two of them—alone, safe in the privacy of the car, or their hotel, or wherever. No one else has this, and it’s laughable to think about all the poor souls who have to return to a mundane life after their one night of lavish extravagance. Hiro imagines Tadashi back on campus, bored and alone, stripping from his overly expensive tuxedo and getting into sweatpants. He’ll probably eat instant noodles and watch something stupid on the internet, all before jerking off and going to bed.

“Don’t you agree, Daddy?” Hiro whispers.

Alistair traces the boy’s jaw with his fingers. “You put forth an excellent point,” he says, faux-professionally. “I’ll have Gogo contact him tomorrow.”

“Mm, good,” Hiro purrs out. He grinds against his father’s lap, then laughs. “You should’ve seen him. He was so embarrassing. In over his head, really.”

“I’m surprised you bothered to speak, to him. You don’t usually get invested in anything other than cock.”

Alistair quickly decides the boy cares a bit too much about this all. He narrows his gaze and grips Hiro’s chin, just a bit harder, while jealousy boils inside him somewhere. He knows he has no real competition, even if Hiro were to get fucked by another man. But, the concept is there, and he wishes to claim the boy for himself. His hands slip down to grip Hiro’s ass, spreading him and groping him, possessively. Their cocks, hard and clothed in dress pants, press against one another. 

“Have you been up to something else?” he breathes, dangerously. His hands dip inside Hiro’s dress pants and prod at the boy’s entrance as if he’s searching for evidence. “Have you been disloyal? Do you need to be punished?”

Hiro shivers under his father’s touch. The man is teasing him, not slipping inside but massaging him just enough that he moans and moves his hips to try and get more contact. Hiro pulls in his lips and makes a soft, desperate sound.

Tadashi Hamada is attractive, sure. Smart and charismatic, despite fumbling over his words every now and then. And, Hiro is sure the guy has a great body and nice, large cock. Watching him crumble underneath small advances and suggestive words is one thing; but, the idea of actually fucking him isn’t entirely appealing. He clearly lacks experience. That hickey on his neck tells Hiro he’s too submissive. His girlfriend probably sucks at his neck and rides his cock as he lays there, half-interested. Hiro likes dominant men. Confident men. Men who are, often times, married. It’s more thrilling when there is a risk, and Hiro supposes his desire to wreck marriages and conquer over clueless women is more or less a lingering result of his resentment against his mother.

He and Alistair have never set guidelines. They’re not, as far as Hiro knows, supposed to be monogamous. Since the relationship started, he’s only ever been with Alistair; but, Hiro supposes, if someone else came along, he wouldn’t feel inclined to actual loyalty. He thinks, really, he deserves to do as he pleases. His mother certainly did her entire life. Alistair did when he decided to fuck him, instead of Maemi.

“You know how good I am,” he pants. He leans in and bites at Alistair’s bottom lip. He knows they’re close to the penthouse, so he pulls away—just a bit. “I’ll do whatever you tell me, Daddy.”

When they actually get home, Alistair sends a text to Gogo, ordering her to send an email to Tadashi. Come Monday, he’ll have the blueprints, and he can start a patent. With this in mind, he manhandles Hiro into the bedroom with a roughness he knows his son enjoys. 

“Maybe I should put a collar on you, so you don’t bend over for any neighborhood mutt,” Alistair growls, shoving Hiro onto the bed.

Hiro is already removing his own tie, but Alistair reaches forward and pulls it taut until his son’s mouth drops open. He pushes two fingers into that tight, warm mouth and grins.

“It’s a good thing you’re such a slut for my cock," he says, with a thoughtful tone. "Who _knows_ what would happen, if someone else tried to fuck you? You’d be so bored, baby, wouldn’t you?”

Alistair forces Hiro to roll over and wastes no time pulling down the boy’s pants and marveling at his smooth ass. This is his, Alistair thinks. He owns Hiro. Every part of him. Alistair doesn’t hide his vulgarity as he gropes his son’s ass. In the next moment, his cock is out, and he’s running it between the smooth insides of Hiro’s thighs. 

“H-Hurry,” Hiro breathes out. He tightens his fists and pushes into his father, desperate. “Daddy—please, fuck me.”

Neither of them ever completely strip before Alistair is sinking into Hiro, fast and hard. Tonight, there’s very little preparation, and Hiro knows it’d be painful if he weren’t reeling down from the buzz of alcohol. Hiro is panting, maybe crying, but he’s begging all the same. He goes wild for how his father treats him: Holding him down, pulling at his hair, fucking him so hard that Hiro feels his muscles giving out.

When they’re done, Hiro realizes he’s drooling. Alistair turns him back over, wiping at his face and leaning down to kiss him. The tenderness of the kiss would be awkward if they both weren’t so used to this switch of behavior. Hiro pushes back when Alistair tries to pull away, kissing him, deeply. Alistair appreciates that and gives a soft moan as runs his hands through Hiro’s hair, treating him as though he were the most fragile thing in the world.

Alistair draws him a bath, a while later. The expo suddenly feels like forever ago and, once more, Hiro ponders what Tadashi may be doing, right now. Has Gogo already sent him the offer? Is he calling every relative he knows to tell them he’s going to be rich? Hiro realizes that, strangely, he wants to see the man again. His sort of naiveté is fascinating. In a few years, the man will probably be as corrupt as the rest of Krei Tech; but, until then, he’s a rare ray of purity, it would seem.

After his bath, Hiro crawls back into bed with his father, who has apparently showered in the other bathroom. Hiro sighs, happily, into his shoulder and runs his hands down the man’s smooth, freshly washed chest.

“I want you to take me to that bakery on Third Street, tomorrow,” Hiro insists. “I want one of their croissants—oh, and their danishes! Then, we should go somewhere fancy, for dinner. We need to celebrate, after all. You’re going to be making millions off that Hamada idiot.”


	2. Chapter 2

Robert checks his phone, first thing in the morning. He had fallen asleep far earlier than intended and missed out on the various texts from Tadashi. The messages are all positive, upbeat, and Robert reads through some articles about the expo over his breakfast.

It would seem Tadashi’s exhibit was the major draw of the evening. Robert isn’t surprised, but he still smiles, proudly, as he sips at his coffee and admires just how handsome Tadashi looks in all the photos.

He’s relieved not to find any photos of Tadashi with Alistair Krei. Hopefully, they didn’t even meet. But, even after all these years, there remains that visceral reaction upon seeing any photo of Alistair. He looks properly smug in each and every shot from last night. In a shocking turn of events, the billionaire attended the expo alone. Not one photo showcases some pretty, dolled up model or socialite. It’s… bizarre, actually. Despite himself, Robert proceeds to spend a good portion of his morning searching tabloids, trying to figure out who Alistair has inevitably been seeing, since the death of Maemi Takachiho.

Robert is so lost in his searches that, when he hears the buzzer ring to his loft, he realizes he’s missed a text from Tadashi, saying he’s coming over to fill him in on last night.

“Shit,” Robert curses.

He’s not exactly looking his best. He’s wearing an old pair of khaki pants and an even older pullover sweater. Robert was planning on running errands, this morning; not seeing his pseudo-lover.

But, as is any encounter with Tadashi, the younger man merely grins when Robert opens the door and throws himself into his professor’s arms. Tadashi clings to Robert longer than intended, a warm and inviting embrace after the confusion of the night before, and it allows him a brief moment to forget everything else. Robert will always be there, he thinks. Even if they decided to stop all of this, he can’t imagine Robert abandoning him.

“I wish you came,” he implores after they exchange a few kisses and hushed, gentle laughter. He bumps their foreheads together. “It was so terrifying! But, they all loved Baymax.”

Tadashi has Robert to thank, for that—which means he stalls getting to the point of his visit through descriptions of his night. He explains Hiro, albeit briefly, and goes into the presentation, how he had been asked a million questions afterward.

“I didn’t meet Krei,” Tadashi admits, and Robert wants be relieved, except there’s still a distant look on the man’s face. Hesitant, even. “But, um… This morning, I got this email.”

He slides his phone over to Robert, and the older man tries not to show his anger when he reads the email. He recognizes the name. Gogo Tomago. She was a former SFIT student. Very focused, serious. She was a dedicated student and excelled in his robotics class, despite being an engineering major. He wrote her a letter of recommendation during her senior year, and he remembers receiving a thank you card that explained she had been hired by Krei Tech as a project manager. It made his stomach churn.

“Krei Tech wants Baymax,” Tadashi sighs out. “You were right. But, I’m going to decline. I just wanted to tell you, first.” 

Robert’s heart is pounding, but he’s quick to speak. “I don’t want you to reject the offer, just because of what I said the other day,” he admits. In reality, he wants to grasp Tadashi’s shoulders and thank him, endlessly, for not being desperate enough to fold to an easy buck. “It has to be your choice, Tadashi. And—I know you’re curious about it.”

Tadashi feels ashamed, which Robert immediately senses. There’s no reason to be ashamed. Afraid, sure, but there’s a potential future for himself, here. For Baymax. Robert doesn’t think anything he can say, at this point, will change Tadashi’s mind. It’s a little unnerving to know he has that much of an impact on the student. He’s sure Tadashi’s quick rejection will only spur Krei Tech on further.

“It’s just weird, because I never even spoke to Krei,” Tadashi offers with a shrug; but, then again, the whole night had been weird.

Especially Hiro.

Last night, Tadashi had done a lot of digging online, attempting to find out everything he could about Alistair Krei’s son. Well, _stepson_ —which Tadashi supposes he could’ve figured out on his own, considering they look nothing alike. But, most of the information available had been about Hiro’s mom. The research had been interesting but not necessarily valuable.

“That younger boy I mentioned…” he carefully restarts. Robert is pouring him a cup of coffee, and the patient look on his face somehow makes Tadashi even more nervous. “Um, his name was Hiro. You know, Krei’s son.”

Robert sets down the coffee percolator. “Stepson,” he corrects. It’s almost too automatic, and Robert prays Tadashi doesn’t catch his tone. “To be frank, I’m shocked he’s even still around. Alistair’s wife died almost a year ago. Alistair Krei is—anything but fatherly, so that’s why I’m surprised he hasn’t shipped that poor boy off to some expensive college, overseas. He’s supposed to be very intelligent. Graduated high school, last year, when he was only thirteen.”

Tadashi hadn’t found any information about that. He read about Maemi Takachiho’s untimely death, how she was Alistair’s first wife, despite the man hitting middle-age. Tadashi isn’t shocked to learn of Hiro’s intelligence, though. He seemed smart, despite destroying all his brain cells with champagne. Mostly, Tadashi is shocked to learn of his age.

_Fourteen._

He’s a child. He looks the part. Maybe even acts it, if Tadashi ignores the sophistication and bizarre flirting.

Tadashi catches the faraway look on Robert and frowns. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything about Hiro. He wants to know why Robert holds such contempt for Alistair Krei, because Tadashi is perceptive enough to know it’s not just about business ethics, but he’s not going to pry.

“I really do care about how you feel,” Tadashi says. “I trust your judgment. I’m not going to sell out to someone you don’t trust. If Krei Tech wanted him, you can bet a lot more companies will, too.”

Robert nods. “As long as that’s really what you want, right now.”

To prove his point, Tadashi takes his phone and opens up a reply to the email, saying that he doesn’t think he’s quite ready to give out Baymax and get a patent at the current time. Gogo Tomago seemed like a very stern individual, so his heart beats a little faster with anxiety as he sends the email and places his phone down.

“I doubt that’ll be the last you hear from the company,” Robert admits. He finishes off his coffee, then stands to place his mug in the kitchen sink. “So—anything else exciting about the night?”

Tadashi’s complexion turns. Robert raises an eyebrow and, when he sits back down, gives the younger man a very expectant look.

“Well,” he continues, awkwardly; “I’m pretty sure Hiro tried to flirt with me. It was cute, I guess. Then, he got drunk.”  
  
Robert blanches. He knows his heart just skipped a beat. “Drunk?” the man repeats. “That child is fourteen. He shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near alcohol, even if he is a billionaire’s stepson.”

And, _flirting_? It’s ludicrous to be jealous. It’s not his place. They’re not supposed to be committed to one another, and Robert has always been persistent about Tadashi dating other guys. Tadashi deserves the attention. Just thinking of how handsome Tadashi looked in that tuxedo is enough to make Robert’s stomach twist. But, Hiro is a child—not to mention Alistair Krei’s stepson. His stepson who, for whatever reason, seems to have made himself quite cozy with the Krei fortune.

“He was cute,” Tadashi remembers. “You know, in a boyish sort of way. I don’t think he was very impressed by me, though. He didn’t even tell me he was Krei’s son. It only hit me when I saw them leaving together.”

“Really?” Robert finds that odd. Hiro sounds remarkably similar to his stepfather, so Robert would’ve expected him to gloat about such vital information. “Hm. Well, you should probably steer clear of any Krei heir—blood related, or not.”

Robert takes Tadashi’s hand and holds it, comfortingly. He can tell this whole thing is weighing heavy on Tadashi’s mind.

“I suppose it is cute, though,” Robert reasons with a shrug. His tone is more jovial, now. “Maybe even a bit scandalous. I’m sure the tabloids would love to hear how Alistair Krei’s stepson flirts with random older boys—in a public space, nonetheless.”

He laughs, lightly, trying not to let his worry actually show. Nothing about Alistair Krei, even his potentially harmless stepson, seems safe. There’s a very distinct urge to keep Tadashi locked away on the SFIT campus, inaccessible to any and all those involved with Krei Tech.

“I didn’t even know _how_ to flirt when I was that age,” Tadashi admits. “Maybe he didn’t realize how he was coming across.”

But, Tadashi doubts that. Hiro seemed all too aware.

Tadashi hums and settles into the warmth of Robert’s touch. The gentleness and familiarity is a stark contrast from the high stakes of the previous night. When he feels Robert’s hand in his hair, leaning forward to lock their lips, Tadashi sighs into it. Sometimes, he wishes this weren’t a taboo relationship. They’d be good together, he thinks. Happy. Tadashi longs to be stable but with freedom so that he doesn’t feel tethered.

“I really wanted to see you, last night,” Tadashi breathes out. “I might’ve fantasized a lot about you taking that insufferable tuxedo off me.”

This time, Robert’s laugh is much more sincere. He stands to pull him closer and apologizes, once more, for his absence. Next time, he promises, because there will _of course_ be another expo for Tadashi to attend. Robert will be more than happy to throw his name around, if it means securing Tadashi a contract with a respectable corporation.

Tadashi is important, to him. He’s crossed so many boundaries with the student and, even now, Robert finds himself struggling to keep the complexity at bay. But, he’s missed being intimate with Tadashi, and not being by his side, last night, had been more difficult that he initially wanted to admit.

“I want to get you out of these grandfather clothes,” Tadashi jokes as his fingers tangle in Robert’s hair.

“Grandfather?” Robert echoes. “I’m no such thing, Tadashi. Not yet, anyway—unless there’s something Abigail isn’t telling me.”

They laugh and fall into a series of deep, hard kisses. Tadashi’s not subtle about running his hands down Robert’s chest. He keeps the older man distracted with his mouth while he loosens his belt and dips his hands inside his pants.

It’s pretty impressive how Robert’s age hasn’t really affected how he looks, or how he performs. He’s still eager and willing and as _hard_ as Tadashi is feeling, now. He thinks about how the cock in his hand feels when it’s buried deep in his ass, stretching him open, and he moans as softly as he physically can.

“Come on,” Robert whispers. He guides Tadashi back toward his bedroom, where Tadashi falls back onto the bed and pulls off his shirt. “God, you look good.”

Tadashi’s body is hard and smooth, save for the tuft of hair just above his low-waisted pantline. It doesn’t take much to pry Tadashi’s hands off him, because Robert knows Tadashi would much rather be at the mercy of his professor. Robert laughs and teases at his neck until he does what Tadashi always requests: He leaves a dark, distinct mark there—right next to the other one, which is starting to fade.

“Shit,” Tadashi curses, laughing because he’s so fucking hard, and it’s almost embarrassing. “It’s only been a few days, but— _shit_ , Robert.”

He finishes pulling at Robert’s pants, now having full access to his cock. Tadashi bites his lip when he catches a glimpse of it between them. Before college, his intuition of his sexuality had come from porn and pictures. Then, he saw Robert’s cock for the first time. Put it in his mouth, fucked it. It’s hysterical, he thinks, that he ever once considered he might be straight.

“Please, just fuck me,” he begs in Robert’s ear, all breath and whispers. 

“Patience,” Robert chides when Tadashi’s moans get louder. No one would ever look at Tadashi Hamada and think desperate bottom, but Robert knows better. “Let’s get these pants off, first.”

He unbuttons his jeans, and Robert appreciates how the younger man makes a show of it. What would his classmates think, if they knew how Tadashi Hamada spread his legs for his professor and begged to be fucked?

“How many hungry stares did you get, last night?” Robert asks. He reaches for the nightstand, where he grabs a condom from the drawer and tears at the foil. “I bet there were plenty of men who thought of taking you home.”

Tadashi’s eager hands intervene with Robert’s He takes the lubricated condom and rolls the latex over Robert’s cock, smirking all the meanwhile.

“Too bad they didn’t,” Tadashi replies. “Guess that means you’ll have to fuck me extra hard.”

Robert groans and towers over Tadashi as he reaches down between his legs. He strokes Tadashi’s cock, nice and slow, before his hand disappears further. Tadashi tenses, and his mouth drops open when he feels Robert’s fingers inside him. 

There’s an incredible rush of power that comes with being dominated, ironically. Tadashi loves knowing he can get the esteemed professor to talk dirty, to do whatever Tadashi asks. He loves when they’re in class, and Tadashi asks questions with a lip caught between his teeth, and Robert spends an extra second or two just staring.

“That’s good,” he pants. “Fuck… Robert.”

He arches, grinding down onto those talented fingers. His cock drags across his stomach and Robert’s eyes follow. It feels so good to be teased. Tadashi scoots forward until he can throw his ankles up onto Robert’s shoulders, giving the man perfect access. 

“God, look at you,” Robert teases. 

Tadashi’s ankles twitch against his shoulders, and Robert laughs, lowly. He’s so goddamn tight. Once he’s convinced the man is stretched enough, Robert slides his fingers back out and aligns himself against Tadashi. From this angle, he can see every inch of himself sinking inside. Tadashi takes cock so well—especially for such an inexperienced young man. Robert is more than pleased to be teaching him how to be properly fucked. What a shame it would’ve been, Robert thinks, had Tadashi submitted to another virgin. He imagines fumbling hands, awkward kisses. Tadashi deserved better than that—and, thank God, he got it.

“You love it, don’t you?”

His voice is low, heated. He loves the way Tadashi still constricts around him, nerves acting up even after all the times they’ve found themselves in each other’s arms. Robert watches Tadashi’s cock twitch against his stomach, leaking a considerable amount of precome onto his own skin. He almost doesn’t want to disturb such a filthy picture; but, he can’t resist the feeling of taking such a beautiful cock in his hands, stroking at it alongside his hard thrusts.

The latex between them is thin and should, by all means, feel forgotten. Tadashi doesn’t know any different, but Robert does, and he mourns not being able to feel every part of the younger man. He imagines how much hotter it’d feel, that tightness clenching around his thick cock, over and over. He imagines spilling inside Tadashi, truly claiming him as his, and, oh, _God_ , it’s a delightful image.

Robert loses himself, forgetting his patience as he ruts harder into Tadashi. Their mouths find each other again, sloppy but passionate, and it’s hearing his name from Tadashi’s lips that has his heart aching more than he should allow.

Neither of them usually come so early, but this whole thing had the sense of being a quick fuck, and it’s Tadashi who is the first to cry out, making a mess of it onto Robert’s hand. He clenches hard and shouts when he feels the warmth of Robert’s climax. _Holy hell_ , he wishes he could actually feel his wet, thick seed spilling inside him.

“Fuck, _fuck_.”

Tadashi swings his forearm over his eyes. Robert continues stroking Tadashi’s softening cock, even when they lay there, catching their breaths. He feels Tadashi’s chest rumble with laughter, followed by a series of light kisses to the side of his head. Robert manages to capture Tadashi’s mouth, moaning against it before, ultimately, pulling away and discarding the condom.

“I needed that,” Tadashi admits.

He’s already less stressed, less anxious. Tadashi has no doubt that Robert could erase all his worries with sweet sentiments and honest advice, but a nice, hard fucking has proven itself just as efficient. He was going to be damned if he got rejected a second time. One time was enough, and Tadashi doesn’t like thinking about how easily insecure he felt.

Despite himself, Tadashi’s mind wanders back to Hiro.

_Hiro Takachiho-Krei…_

God. He was so small and dainty, yet packed with energy and sarcasm. Tadashi smiles, fondly, at the memory. Should he be honest about what he thought, now that he knows how old Hiro is? It shocks him to realize he doesn’t care that much. Four years isn’t that much of an age difference—certainly not like the one that is between him and Robert.

Even with the knowledge Hiro is underage, it’s still difficult to shake the images he conjured up in his mind in the past twelve hours. He may have thought long and hard about Hiro underneath him, and that had sparked curiosity. 

“Do you think I could top?” Tadashi asks, innocently, opening his eyes to gaze at his professor beside him. “Or, am I too much of a bottom to, like, be even slightly intimidating?”

Robert laughs. “Anyone can top,” he says, methodically. “Topping doesn’t really have anything to do with being intimidating.”

Robert is about to suggest they switch it up between them but decides against it when he considers how vulnerable that would leave Tadashi. Besides, he’s never been much for being on the receiving end. Tadashi, on the other hand, strikes him as someone rather versatile, given the right partner.

“Don’t let some spoiled, rich brat shake you up,” Robert tells him.

Tadashi is a bit embarrassed that his thoughts were so obvious.

“I don’t—I mean, are you still okay with this? Us?” Tadashi turns and reaches to stroke Robert’s cheek, as if he could smooth away the wrinkles of worry on his face. He doesn’t think the man realizes how unhappy he looks. “We could stop, if you feel too weird about it.”

Tadashi doesn’t want to stop, though, and he prays Robert denies his request. He wouldn’t know what to do in class if he weren’t able to sneak sultry glances as his professor, wouldn’t know where to turn when something went wrong. Who would he text? Who would he come to visit after terrifying expos?

“No,” Robert says, quickly, calmly. “It’s not that. Believe me. I—I want you to have other options, Tadashi. You’re so young. Jesus—at your age, I was already engaged to my high school sweetheart.”

Robert doesn’t want Tadashi to feel stuck, like he did. Robert doesn’t regret his marriage. A lot of wonderful things came from it, including his daughter. He cherishes his memories with his wife and was genuinely heartbroken and distraught when she had passed away. But, it was also only until after her death that he was able to freely and openly explore his true self. It had been difficult, trying to balance life as a fresh out of the closet gay man while raising a young child as a single father. He had made mistakes—a very particular someone being one of them—and, the very last thing he wants, now, is to watch Tadashi do the same in any regard. He’s already feared it might be too late for that, considering Robert let their relationship begin in the first place. He could kick himself for being so stupid, for thinking with his dick. But, whenever he sees how happy Tadashi is to see him, to be with him, it makes it difficult.

But, Christ, getting involved with someone like Alistair Krei’s stepson is not a path he’d choose, for Tadashi. Robert doesn’t want to be jealous. It’s his own damn fault, if he is, really; he’s the one telling Tadashi to pursue other relationships. But, he supposes it’s natural. And, he is being sincere about it. Tadashi’s needs, his life, are far more important than what Robert has feared is a midlife crisis with an eighteen year-old college student.

Speaking of age differences.

“He’s underage,” he says, pointedly. “Even if he weren’t Krei’s son, you have to remember he’s only fourteen.”

He reaches over and kisses Tadashi’s forehead. It’s strangely platonic. Almost fatherly.

“There are plenty of boys your own age at SFIT who’d probably be more than happy to date you, Tadashi.”

Tadashi settles back down against the pillows, and Robert doesn’t catch the look of disappointment falling over his face. He tries to remind himself this whole thing with Hiro was fleeting—obviously, with a fourteen year-old, it had to be—but, Tadashi had entertained it just enough to feel himself pining to know more about that mysterious drunk boy. 

* * *

Alistair slams his phone on his desk and wipes hands over his eyes. Goddammit. God _fucking_ dammit. That idiotic Hamada kid has no clue about anything. If he did, Alistair wouldn’t be forwarded emails that say shit like this nonsense.

Not searching for patents, huh? Then, why put the robot in the damn expo? Alistair knows there’s more at work, here. Whatever anxieties or fears this kid has, they’re interfering. Alistair wonders what it would be like to be so infuriatingly stupid, so absolutely unaware, in order to deny such a substantial offer. 

Hiro had even talked to him, had _put up_ with him. And, for what? For a lost opportunity created by a lost cause? Alistair can’t let this slip through his fingers because of an idiot teenager. There’s too much at stake. But, what could get him that robot?

Alistair wonders if Hiro actually got the kid’s attention enough to warrant a second meeting. Maybe Hiro, with all his boyish charm, could convince Tadashi of a better future. Alistair bristles with jealousy at the thought, but he also knows Hiro loves to twist boring men around his finger so he can watch them squirm. Clearing his throat, Alistair presses Hiro’s contact on his phone and thinks of what to say. 

“I need you in my office,” he tells his son, darkly. “We have to discuss something urgent.”

* * *

It’s rare that Alistair calls him—and, even rarer that he uses a stern tone so removed from its usual lustful inflections. Hiro hangs up the phone with a strange sense of dread. He considers not even obeying, except he is curious. Maybe it’s about his internship. Maybe Gogo finally got, to him, and Alistair is fed up with his constant absences.

Hiro pulls on an old pair of shorts and print-trimmed shirt, not even bothering to brush his hair before he decides he’s ready to go. The driver is waiting downstairs. Hiro nods in acknowledgement and busies himself with his phone during the ride over to Krei Tech.

It’s hotter than it had been on Saturday. Hiro smoothes at his wrinkled shorts and wishes he actually had someone to text, rather than just mindlessly following old, weird threads on forums.

The air conditioning is blasting in the office. Hiro doesn’t have time to process his regret for dress choice because he’s too startled by the loud, chipper voice that comes from the front desk.

“Hiro—!”

Honey Lemon stops clacking at the keyboard and hops down from her perched receptionist desk. She’s cooing and speaking all sorts of excited Spanish as she brushes through the boy’s hair with her slender fingers. She has a habit of primping him before he goes upstairs.

“You look so sleepy!” she says, almost pouting. She offers some of her concealer and doesn’t wait for a response before she’s pulling out her makeup bag and gliding a thin stick of makeup under his eyes. “Oh, there you go. Much better. How are you, lately? Gogo was so upset, last week—oh, I’m so sorry for all the calls, but she insisted, and— _well_. But! She said you went to the expo on Friday. That must have been exciting. Oh, gosh, I should’ve gone.”

“Yeah,” Hiro answers. He doesn’t have much else to say, especially since she’s still holding up his chin, inspecting his complexion, or whatever it is she’s so concerned about. “Anyway. Um, my dad—”

“Oh! Yes, he said we would be expecting you! Go ahead on up—you don’t need to sign in, _cariño_.”

Hiro heads up, hoping he doesn’t run into Gogo as he makes his way toward his father’s office. Alistair’s secretary smiles and waves him in, where his father is in the midst of a phone call. Hiro closes the door behind him and gives the man a pointed, impatient look. Alistair turns in his swivel chair, ignoring him. 

The conversation doesn’t seem to be anything too important. Something about a delayed shipment. Hiro approaches the desk, taking a seat on the hard oak and using his foot to swing his father’s chair back in his direction.

“Hurry up, Daddy,” he mouths, worthlessly.

Hiro’s expression is flat, but Alistair thinks, maybe, he sees some worry there. He suddenly feels guilty for the tone he used on the phone. The poor thing probably thinks he’s in trouble. To counter it, Alistair smiles and grabs his son’s hand, kissing at his knuckles.

Once he hangs up the phone, Hiro tilts his head, curiously, and Alistair entwines their fingers. This is really not something he wants to ask, mostly because he suspects Hiro will accept right away, and Alistair hates how betrayed he feels by that notion.

“You’re not in trouble,” he starts out, and Hiro squeezes his hand.

Alistair’s heart constricts with a very sudden urge to forget everything and just take Hiro home. It reminds him of a very specific hesitation he ignored so long ago. There’s a pang of guilt as he stares back at his son— _but, no._ Alistair Krei is a businessman, a professional. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he let his emotions get in the way. 

“Hamada denied our offer,” he finishes; “and, to be frank, it’s less than ideal.”

“Why the hell would he reject the offer?” Hiro wonders, a single eyebrow raised. “Maybe you should just offer him more money. Maybe he’s not actually stupid and just greedy.”

“Money doesn’t seem to be talking,” he clarifies. “Gogo has already sent him two offers.”

Hiro looks surprised. “Wow. I guess he is an idiot, then.”

Alistair meets Hiro’s eyes, once more. _God,_ he’s beautiful. Messed hair, pink lips. He feels guilty for leaving Hiro home so often. Alistair wishes he could bring him here every day; if not for any other reason than to have something pretty to look at when he has a moment to spare.

“You talked to him, right?” Alistair asks. Hiro’s expression changes, and Alistair feels his stomach twist. “I thought, perhaps, you’d be able to get through, to him.”

“How?” Hiro replies with a laugh. “I’m not some suave, professional businessman, Dad.”

But, from the sounds of it, that’s exactly why his father is recruiting him. Hiro doesn’t know whether to be offended, or intrigued. This isn’t like his father. Alistair has always seemed somewhat relieved how reclusive Hiro behaves, despite the occasional frustrations.

“Do you want me to suck his dick, or something?”

Hiro hasn’t thought too much about Tadashi Hamada, over the weekend. He can’t even really remember exactly what his face looked like, but he does remember he was attractive. Hiro would do it, he supposes. He likes giving head, and he imagines how satisfying it would be for some squeaky clean college student to crumble under the hands of a cute, underage boy. He’s not opposed to any of this, especially if it means pleasing his father, but he’s still taken aback.  
  
“I don’t think that’s exactly what I had in mind,” Alistair admits. One, because he dislikes how forward his son is being; and, two, because he doubts a simple blowjob is going to solve this problem. “You may have to be a bit more convincing.”

“So, you’re trying to pimp me out,” he says, and the subsequent sigh exudes a certain exhaustion that makes Alistair want to lurch forward, grab his son and swear that’s not his intention.

No. Alistair is being a bit underhanded with his investments, and his son—as loyal and likeminded, as always—is simply helping out.

“You’re persuasive,” Alistair amends. “It’s a very useful skill in this industry, and I think _your_ particular charms are necessary.”

Hiro looks intrigued, now. There’s no doubt in Alistair’s mind that his son would have accepted simply giving the other man oral sex, without question. He knows Hiro spends most of his days alone in his room. Maybe he’s interested in leaving, in experimenting. Alistair doesn’t know if he can handle that. He needs to make sure Hiro fully understands this plan.

“I want you to get close, to him,” he says, slowly. “Close enough that you could persuade him. And, I don’t know what it will take to sway Hamada, so I’d say be prepared for anything. I know you aren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty.”

“Are you doing this because you think I’m lazy, and you’re trying to give me something to do?” he asks. “I mean, this is quite the project, if that’s so.”

He laughs and slips from the surface of the desk onto his father’s lap. Alistair is more than eager to gather him closer, helping Hiro swing his legs over the armrests. Hiro makes a thoughtful noise and pretends to be in deep thought.

“You’re going to owe me a lot,” he points out. “He’s so boring. I can’t fathom actually getting through, to him—even if I deploy all my assets. But, I’ll try. For you, Daddy.”

Hiro’s small fingers trace the fabric on Alistair’s thighs, inching closer than necessary as he gazes at his father, heatedly. Alistair has never let him do much of anything in his office, which has always confused Hiro. He figured his father would like nothing more than to slam him on the desk and fuck him, senseless. Maybe he thinks it’s too risky. Or, maybe he doesn’t think it’s professional (unlike fucking your stepson, which is clearly very professional and normal). This doesn’t stop Hiro from trying, though. He makes the softest of noises as his free hand tugs at his father’s tie, urging him closer so their lips graze each other.

“We’d be so rich with a robot like Baymax at Krei Tech,” Hiro purrs out. The underside of his lips brush against Alistair’s mouth. “You could buy me anything I wanted, and I know you would, Daddy. You long to make me happy, don’t you?”

Alistair shivers from Hiro’s advances. Generally, Hiro doesn’t need material things to be happy. He needs cock, to even mildly enjoy himself. He’s always been very hard to please. Alistair learned that simply by knowing his mother and seeing how absolutely miserable the child had been until someone paid attention, to him, and fucked him.

“I would be forever grateful,” Alistair assures. He grips Hiro’s chin between his fingers and turns that pouty face toward his own. “I have faith in your ability to persuade him. It’s not every day a fourteen year-old can seduce someone like me.”

Alistair often supposes he should be disgusted with himself. In many ways, he is, because he condemns the crimes of pedophiles, just like everyone else. But, Alistair isn’t attracted to other children, nor has he ever considered sleeping with anyone underage. Hiro is just different. He knows it’s confusing. Even Hiro doesn’t understand it. Alistair has been adamant about never having slept with anyone even remotely underage, but he’s avoided Hiro’s interrogations about whether he’s ever fucked another man before—which, Alistair figures, has given the boy more than enough clarification. Hiro still doesn’t understand why Alistair married Maemi, or whether he ever was interested in her, physically, emotionally; but, he stopped caring once the man reciprocated Hiro’s advances. 

All the resentment and the anger Hiro held for his mother came flooding down when he realized how rewarding it would be to take something from her. Her husband seemed like the most satisfying. It’s not like it would’ve ever been difficult. Maemi could only ever blame herself, for that.

Alistair had his qualms, but he understood from the beginning. Hiro remembers the first time they were truly alone together. It was weeks after the marriage, and his mother was off doing God knows what. The penthouse seemed small that night, like Alistair was impossible to avoid. Hiro had wandered into his stepfather’s work office, wearing the tightest, most undersized pair of shorts he owned, complaining about how hot it was and insisting Alistair should give him the access code to the building’s pool. He pressed against the older man and claimed he didn’t want to go downstairs alone, and he remembers feeling how hot Alistair’s body got from the touch.

After weeks of baiting him, Alistair snapped. He waited for Hiro outside the bathroom and grabbed his wet, slick body and threw him onto the bed. Alistair spread his ass and told him, in the filthiest, darkest tone, what a slut he was for throwing himself at his own stepfather all those times. In seconds, Hiro was harder than he had ever been in his life, and he begged and squirmed and moaned until Alistair slipped on a condom and fucked him so hard that Hiro actually bled a little.

It was routine, after that. Maemi would leave, and the two of them would continue their affair. Hiro reveled in how wrong it was, spurring Alistair on with promises of how he would be so much better than his mother, how much tighter he’d feel. Alistair never rejected him.

He still can’t, and he knows what they share cannot be replicated.

Tadashi Hamada will never be good enough on the basis that he’s just too wet behind the ears.

Hiro likes to be bossed around by men. Not boys.

Alistair playfully grips Hiro’s wrists and pins them down to his sides. “Do you think he’ll be very dominant, from what you’ve seen?”

Hiro sighs with pleasure and makes sure the man hears the excited moan he lets out.

“He had a hickey on his neck,” Hiro tells him. He grinds against the man’s lap, unable to do much else. He’s already hard, probably leaking, but his father’s doing a remarkable job not reacting to his son practically dry humping him. “I bet his girlfriend gave it, to him, after she sucked him off. He strikes me a pathetic, submissive little poindexter.”

Alistair scoffs with amusement at that.

“He goes to SFIT, right?” Hiro asks. “You want me to just show up there and start to work my magic? Don’t you think that seems a little—stalker-esque?”

Alistair adjusts his jaw, contemplating. He knows Hiro doesn’t like his internship; but, as of right now, that’s their only way into Hamada’s life without suspicion. When he glances back up at Hiro, he can tell that he’s slowly losing control of the boy and that they’ll probably be fucking soon. He should get this out quickly.

“I’ll have Gogo arrange something with your internship,” he tells Hiro. “Perhaps she can get you into working at that robotics lab.”

Hiro makes a sarcastic face. “Ah, yes, with that lame professor who apparently thinks the world of Hamada.”

“Robert Callaghan,” Alistair clarifies.

Saying that name, even trying to be nonchalant about it, causes Alistair’s voice to waver. His emotions are unsorted. Alistair’s feelings about Robert are the equivalent of a box thrown into an attic and forgotten, dismissed. He’s relieved when Hiro doesn’t catch his tone, and it makes it so much easier for him to slide his fingertips up the back of Hiro’s shirt.

There’s laughter, and then kissing, and then Alistair finds himself in a heated lock with his step-son once again. He grips Hiro’s hair and pulls them ever closer, loving how warm Hiro’s chest is against his own. The boy is so small, so lithe, and he manipulates his hips so easily that Alistair can’t help but groan just at the visual.

“We shouldn’t,” he says, mostly to himself. “Not in here, Hiro.”

But, Hiro is whining as he dips his hands into Alistair’s suit pants. He doesn’t give a fuck about some secretary who might walk into the office; right now, he’s far more concerned about why he doesn’t have his father’s cock in his hand.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Hiro insists as he teases the man’s lips again. In the next moment, he’s sliding down, falling onto his knees and gazing up from between the man’s legs. “Just don’t be too loud.”

He smirks and pulls at Alistair’s pants until he has enough access. His slender fingers gently grip the man’s cock, which is fully hard and twitching underneath his touch. Hiro moans and runs his tongue down, drooling all the meanwhile for show. Hiro wants to make sure his father’s cock is drenched in saliva before he takes the entire length down his throat.

“You’re so big, Daddy,” he tells him. His eyes are wide and hungry. When he stares up at his father, the man gives a lazy, pleased smile back and guides Hiro’s head back toward his cock. “I bet my mom didn’t suck cock as well as I do, huh?”

Hiro feels his father stiffen—just a bit—at those words. He laughs, darkly. He hasn’t brought up Maemi in a while. It’s intriguing, to Hiro, just how much his stepfather doesn’t seem to enjoy those teasing comparisons anymore. Before his father can protest them, though, Hiro’s small, pink mouth is taking Alistair’s cock—far and deep and easy. He allows for two or three controlled gags before coming back up, eyes glossed.

“Are you gonna come down my throat, Daddy?” he whispers, stroking his cock. He draws his tongue along the shaft again before lapping at the precome from the tip, thick and hot. “You’re shaking.”

He catches his breath and sinks down once more, taking in as much as he can before he feels his father’s cock pressing against the back of his throat.  
  
Alistair groans. He can’t believe such a small boy can fit that much. Despite his gags, Alistair lifts his hips and pushes deeper, completely stuffing Hiro’s mouth, and it makes his entire body shiver.

“You love to choke on my cock, don’t you?” he growls, and becomes a little more forceful with how he presses Hiro down onto him. “ _Ngh_ … Having so much in your mouth you can’t even take it all.”

There’s still an inch or so that Hiro can’t fit, but he appears to be desperately trying to swallow whole. His eyes are watering, his face is flushed. Enjoying the show, Alistair spreads his legs and leans back in his chair, watching how his cock disappears into his son’s mouth. Will Hamada ever see this type of lust? Alistair cradles his jealousy by groaning and thrusting up into Hiro’s face.

“This is the best cock you’ll ever have,” he says, through gritted teeth. “When you suck off Hamada, you’re going to _wish_ you were sucking Daddy’s dick, huh?”

His little boy nods, desperately. With another moan, Alistair holds Hiro’s head in place and gently fucks that pretty mouth until he teeters over the edge and comes, hard and fast. He shouts, probably louder than he intends, but Hiro only focuses on swallowing every bit of his father’s come. It hits his tongue and the back of his throat, tasting bitter but perfect and so familiar. He stifles every gag and strokes at the man’s cock, afterward, feeling it go soft by each passing second.

“Tastes so good,” Hiro says, quietly. 

Hiro appreciates how dazed his father looks. It’s a rewarding feeling, knowing he’s the only person on earth that can make Alistair Krei fall apart like this.

Hiro lets his father catch his breath and zips him back up, attempting to iron out some of the wrinkles on his pants. When he’s convinced his father doesn’t look as though he just fucked his son’s throat, Hiro stands and kisses his mouth, long and thorough.

“Come home on time,” he whispers. “I want you to fuck me all night before my internship tomorrow. Okay, Daddy?”

* * *

Robert never believed it was actually possible to spit out one’s drink upon hearing or seeing unfavorable news, but he certainly nearly chokes on his coffee when he reads his email in the morning.

It’s from one of the board directors, informing him that Krei Tech has requested ongoing use of the robotics lab. The email is not entirely unusual in and of itself. SFIT has partnered with Krei Tech in the past, along with many other companies for various reasons. _No_ , that’s not odd. What startles Robert is the list of permitted personnel.

Gogo Tomago’s name is there. Along with Hiro Takachiho-Krei’s.

Robert slams down his coffee mug and immediately texts Tadashi.

> Gogo Tomago from Krei Tech is on campus today for something. Try not to run into her.  
>  Sent at 7:32 a.m.

He doesn’t want to scare Tadashi with what he’d really like to say—which is, stay the fuck away from the robotics lab, because Alistair has clearly sent his lackeys over to harass you. He’ll try to talk to Tomago himself, when he gets a chance. And, if necessary, he’ll deal with Hiro, too.

* * *

Hiro is still yawning, even after Gogo sends him on a coffee run. The café on campus is crowded and noisy, and he’s convinced the idiot who took his order doesn’t know what extra vanilla means, because his latte doesn’t taste sweet, at all. Hiro groans against his coffee cup, chewing at the lid as he waits for Gogo to finish signing them in at the front desk.

“I haven’t been awake this early since, like, high school,” he complains. “How do you do it? How does my dad do it? I want to know. Fuck.”

Gogo thanks the young man working the desk, then turns to Hiro. “It’s called being an adult,” she snaps. She grabs her coffee from Hiro—black, extra sugar—and motions for him to follow. “I’m not in the mood for your complaining, so you better quit while you’re ahead.”

Hiro rubs his eyes when they pass by a reflective surface. “Ask Honey what kind of concealer she uses,” he says. “I look like shit. Actually, ask her what kind of foundation she uses, too, because her skin is, like, always glowing, and that’s not really fair.”

Hiro continues to ramble on and on about makeup, but Gogo ignores him. When they reach the robotics lab, Gogo frowns. She enjoyed her time at SFIT, but she could think of a million other places she’d prefer to be than her alma mater. Why the fuck would Krei send his son here? Doesn’t Hiro have something more in his lane he should be working on? But, then, she turns her head and sees Tadashi Hamada, oblivious as usual, opening the door to his lab.

She narrows her eyes. Suspicious. It’s not enough so that she can accuse Hiro of anything, but she thinks now might be a good time to give her boss a call and find out exactly what dubious schemes he’s trying to pull on Tadashi Hamada.

“Wait here,” she tells Hiro very seriously; “and, don’t touch anything. I don’t need the extra headache of hearing that you accidentally cut off your arm, or something.”

Hiro mutters a response as he pretends not to notice Tadashi. He flips open his phone and starts to text his father.

> i swear i can still feel u inside me, daddy  
>  Sent at 8:45 a.m.

> i miss u  
>  Sent at 8:46 a.m.

He probably won’t get a response. Alistair rarely responds to his salacious texts, but Hiro still enjoys sending them. He obviously reads them, after all. When he snaps his phone shut, he glances up to see that Tadashi is walking back out of his lab. He has a linear actuator in his hand, and he’s so in his own head that he probably doesn’t even realize he’s whistling some nameless tune. 

Hiro laughs. “I hope that actuator isn’t for Baymax,” he greets; “and, if it is, might I suggest an electro-mechanical replacement?”

Tadashi stops dead in his tracks, looks up and _stares_.

What the _fuck_ is Hiro doing here? His heart starts pounding, and he can’t form words, and it’s so fucking embarrassing that Tadashi feels his face go red.

Hiro most definitely does not need to be at SFIT. He’s so rich he’ll never need to hold a job ever again. And, yet, he’s just sitting at a lab bench, playing on his phone, looking as though he belongs here with every other student that is walking around the perimeter. 

Against his better judgment, Tadashi walks up to the kid and clears his throat. He almost loses his nerve when he sees Hiro’s gaze, steady and open, directed toward him. As if it’s Tadashi who shouldn’t be here.

“Um, I…?” Tadashi gulps, and Hiro stares at him, expectantly. “Hiro, what are you doing here?”

Hiro places down his phone and leans forward on the lab bench, smiling. “Hi, Tadashi,” he breathes out, practically cooing at the man. “God. How do you deal with everyone here? Everyone is so goddamn nerdy and in your space and gross. This girl was practically breathing down my neck while I was waiting in line for coffee.”

He sighs. Melodramatic. Tadashi doesn’t have a response for that. He just continues to stare.

“ _Oh_ , sorry,” he then says, feigning distraction. “I got dragged here, today. Remember that internship I told you about? Well, it just got ten times more annoying.”

It’s smooth, convincing. But, Tadashi is still struggling to speak, and Hiro is laughing, hysterically, in his head. He offers another charming smile.

“Is this where you work?” he asks. “I can’t believe you have your own lab. Someone must _really_ like you.”

Finally, Tadashi folds his arms and appraises Hiro, skeptically. It’s starting to hit him like a brick wall. Internship, huh? When his father is Alistair Krei? He shouldn’t need to try more than the minimal amount to put something like an internship on his resume.

“Right,” Tadashi answers with a nod.

He’ll play along, he supposes. Clearly, Hiro wants something. Tadashi can’t imagine _what_ , but he’s acting like a fucking child who just stole cookies. He doubts they just happened to end up in the same lab.

“Actually, my lab’s back there,” he says, pointing, not at all sheepish about having such a space to himself like he is when other people ask. He wants Hiro to be acutely aware. “Professor Callaghan sponsors it, for me. It helps get away from all the noise.”

As if on cue, the shrill scream of a drill goes off and cuts down Tadashi’s words. Tadashi frowns, while Hiro looks more than annoyed.

“Jesus,” Hiro gripes. He shoots a glare at the team of students working on a pathetic-looking robot. “Everyone here sucks.”

Tadashi isn’t sure if he’s ready to start patronizing his fellow students with someone as snobby as Hiro, but he still finds himself holding back a smile. He motions Hiro toward his lab.

“Want to check it out?” he asks, loudly, over the sound of the noise.

Hiro is quick to hop off the stool and follow Tadashi inside. The man closes the door after them, and the ruckus is only a soft buzz from inside the secured lab space. It’s one hell of a lab. Large, bright. There’s even a nice little view of the campus. And, the tech is unreal. Hiro didn’t think this level of machinery existed outside Krei Tech.

“Damn,” he breathes out. He scans the shelf of textbooks. “How much dick did you have to suck to get all this stuff?”

When he looks over at Tadashi, he expects the man to appear offended. He’s not. He seems startled, embarrassed, and Hiro raises his brow.

“It’s a joke,” he explains. “But, anyway, no—this is a great space. I envy you, actually. Having your own space to create is really nice.”

Hiro would love a place like this: Secluded and fully equipped with every material and machinery he’d ever need. Alistair would give it, to him, of course, but he’d monitor Hiro nonstop. Hiro would never be able to create the sort of sinister robots he envisions.

“So, where’s Baymax?” he wonders, sincerely curious. “Did you sell him to some overseas corporation?”

Tadashi is confused by the question until he realizes Hiro never saw the robot deactivate. He smirks, all pride and show, and toes at the little red box on the floor. “He’s right here,” Tadashi says. “Portability. He deflates and deconstructs.”

Hiro moves to investigate the box. It’s impressive. Tadashi feels his neck heat up as he watches as the boy. _God_ , Hiro is just as cute as he remembered…

What’s he thinking? Hiro is fourteen. He has to force his gaze away from Hiro’s ass as he bends over and tries not to think more obscene thoughts. Does he really have to feel this way about a kid? He never exactly considered himself a predator. 

But, his presence isn’t natural in Tadashi’s lab. Hiro should most definitely not be here, especially considering Tadashi just said a big, fat _no_ to his father’s contract offer.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re Alistair Krei’s son?” he asks. He folds his arms and settles a critical gaze upon Hiro. “Then, the next day, I got an offer from your father. I turned him down, you know.”

Hiro is momentarily taken aback by the question. He turns back around, straightening out his thin sweater and attempting to read the older man’s expression. It’s impressively solid, as is his tone. Tadashi is not excited about any of this, and that intrigues Hiro. He had thought, maybe, Tadashi was too dumb to look into Alistair Krei, into Krei Tech. It wouldn’t take much searching to discover their relation to one another. Hell, the third image of Alistair that pops up in a search engine is a photograph taken by some paparazzi when they were out at a Italian restaurant. It’s rare, these days, that any article about Alistair Krei fails to mention his stepson.

“I didn’t think it was important,” Hiro tells him. “What, do you think I just introduce myself as his son within five seconds of meeting someone? I’m not that self-involved.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, because there is valid frustration there. He enjoys throwing around his father’s name when necessary, but it had actually been nice to talk to Tadashi without any expectations.

“And,” Hiro continues, advancing toward the man; “I’m well aware. I’m the one who told him to purchase Baymax. He was very disappointed when you said no—as was I.”

He inches closer and allows himself to play coy before he smirks. Instinctively, Tadashi moves away, because Hiro is doing that _thing_ again: Flirting with no reserve, acting as though his behavior isn’t something that will ever be questioned.

“I’m waiting for other offers,” he lies. They both know Krei Tech is going to offer the most money. “Thanks for the recommendation, though.”

Hiro puts on a pout that Tadashi knows is just for show. “I had been looking forward to seeing you more,” he insists. “I bet my father would’ve offered you a position at Krei Tech, had you said yes.”

Tadashi can’t help but notice how good Hiro looks with that smirk on his face. He swallows, and Hiro’s eyes follow the movement, and it’s a good thing Tadashi isn’t imagining the tension between them.

“Guess you’ll be seeing more of me, anyway. I hardly leave the lab.”

Smoothly, Tadashi slips away from Hiro’s gaze and takes a seat at his desk, picking up on his work where he left off. He starts attaching the actuator to a small strip of machinery. Hiro watches Tadashi work, admiring how easily he falls into his own little world. But, Hiro doesn’t like being ignored. He follows the man to the other side of the lab and sits on the desk.

“Any particular reason you’re flirting with me?”

Hiro’s heart leaps as though his misdeeds have just been discovered, but he doesn’t allow himself to hesitate before speaking.

“I think you’re cute,” Hiro says, smoothly. “Stupid, yes, but cute.”

Tadashi turns and gives him a very pointed look. “Kid, if you want someone to be into you, don’t call them stupid,” he tells him, not entirely amused with the insult. “Especially if you’re stalking them to try and get on their good side.”

“Stalk?” Hiro echoes. He then laughs. “Oh, _please_. You’ve got it all wrong. My instructor set this up all on her own. My dad doesn’t even know I am here, right now. Gogo—you met her; she’s the one I volunteered at the expo—well, she thinks I can learn a thing or two on this campus, after seeing what you’ve accomplished. It’s really not that big of a coincidence.”

Hiro smiles. All charm.

“Does it bother you that I’m flirting?” Hiro wonders. He reaches out, pulling at Tadashi’s shirt collar and exposing a new hickey he caught sight of when they were outside the lab. “Oh, I see. Must be because of this thing. Tell your girlfriend she’s not very good. She has terrible technique.”

Hiro’s words bring Tadashi back to a certain reality, back to what Robert had told him.

Fourteen. Underage. 

Tadashi consciously covers up his hickey, as if he’s ashamed of it, as if he’s ashamed of a kid seeing something so scandalous.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says, and it doesn’t answer every question but it at least tells Hiro he isn’t some straight boy infatuated with a girl. He carefully connects the part he’s holding into place. “I’m not dating anyone, actually. But, that’s not the issue.”

When he turns to look at Hiro, the kid actually has the nerve to look insulted, as if he cannot fathom why flirting with an adult man would be inappropriate. 

“You don’t want me calling you stupid, but you sure say a lot of stupid things,” Hiro fires back. “I don’t like kids my age. I like men, Tadashi. You know, someone who knows what they’re doing. Unlike whoever gave you that hickey.”

Hiro rolls his eyes before reaching for his phone. His father hasn’t texted him back, which isn’t surprising, but Hiro sort of expected some form of communication. Shouldn’t his father be texting him curious questions? Hiro decides to take it upon himself to give his father some form of an update.

> well i think hamada is a fag so we’re in luck  
>  Sent at 9:33 a.m.

It’s not entirely shocking. Tadashi has dressed the part with his stupid cardigan and tight-fitting pants. He’s obvious. Not that it would matter much, anyway. Hiro has already learned he can make most any man consider the unthinkable. He got his way with Alistair, after all, and that shouldn’t have been such an easy feat.

“So, tell me about him,” Hiro decides when he puts away his phone. “Is he hot? Where’d you meet him—the rec room? Does he have the same major? What’s his name? Does he have a big dick?”  
  
Tadashi laughs, nervously, and scratches the back of his neck. He didn’t expect Hiro to be so interested. He figured, given the boy’s behavior, he might be jealous. But, _no_ ; he actually wants to know these things.

“He’s, um—older,” Tadashi offers, and he hopes that doesn’t make it obvious. He’s already raved about Robert funding his lab. Maybe he should say something to throw Hiro off. “I met him off-campus. And, yeah, he’s pretty huge.”

He kind of loves the way Hiro’s eyes widen, like every word is something he didn’t expect. He probably didn’t think Tadashi would actually talk about Robert’s dick. On the contrary, Tadashi is more than willing to divulge every dirty thing they’ve ever done together.

He pretends not to be interested as he goes back to work. “He’s fucked me in here.”

Hiro scans the lab, wondering where and how. Probably over the lab bench like some cheesy porno. How boring. He does like the image of Tadashi being spread open and fucked, though. Tadashi strikes him as being too vanilla for hard, ruthless fucks, so they probably kiss a lot, stroke each other’s hair and whisper cute, sentimental words at one another. Hiro doesn’t even need to ask if he was a virgin beforehand, because that much is obvious.

Tadashi smirks when he catches how Hiro is looking around. He motions his head toward Hiro’s neck and asks: “What about those? You’ve clearly got someone special.”

Hiro laughs. “I don’t do _special_ , Tadashi,” he says, except he knows Alistair considers him very special.

Every chance he gets, the man is doting upon him. Hiro has never quite understood it. His father clearly loves to fuck him and has no issue playing perverted, kinky games with him; but, on a completely different realm, he also seems to enjoy just being his father. Where they draw the line, Hiro doesn’t know.

“Can’t, really,” he continues with a shrug. His own lips then quirk upward as he leans closer again. “Married men are very particular. Not much room for anything special, there.”

Tadashi drops the wrench he’s holding. It falls to the ground with a loud _clank_ , and he stares, mouth agape, as Hiro just looks back at him with an amused smirk.

“Married men?” Tadashi shakes his head, convinced he’s misheard. “Hiro, you’re— _fourteen_.”

It’s a startling admission. Tadashi doesn’t know what else to say. Is he even allowed to judge, to be concerned? He’s the one sleeping with his fifty-something year-old professor. But, at least he’s legal. At least he’s an adult. Tadashi really, _really_ doesn’t want to picture old, married men touching Hiro’s small, cute, child-like form.

Or, maybe that’s the problem, too.

Maybe he _can_ picture it, because he’s been thinking about it all weekend. Tadashi shakes it off and grabs the wrench from the floor.

“Oh, relax,” Hiro groans. He starts to rearrange some loose paperclips on the desk. “We can talk about something else, if you’re so offended. _Hm._ Tell me more about your boyfriend’s dick. Can you get the whole thing down your throat? I bet you love giving head. Has he ever sucked you off?”

Tadashi exhales. He tries to convince himself he’s not kicking Hiro out because he doesn’t have the heart; but, really, he knows it’s that stupid, _stupid_ , _stupid_ intrigue he has, for the kid. Putting down his tools, Tadashi turns and decides he may as well focus on the other topic at hand: Robert’s dick.

Even thinking about it makes his lower stomach curl. He loves how thick Robert is, how amazing it feels when Robert is fucking his ass so hard that he can feel it for the next three days. Tadashi gets lost, for a moment, trying to measure it in his head.

“He’s around eight inches, hard. I love deep-throating, so, yeah—all of it. And, he loves sucking me off because he loves cock as much as I do.”

He shoots Hiro a filthy little smirk. Tadashi knows he looks innocent, but he’s far from it. Even if he had been a virgin before he met Robert, he still knew he wanted to shove cock in his mouth. Daringly, he gives Hiro a quick, heated once-over with his eyes.

“Never topped, though,” he admits. “I’m not sure I’d like being with someone who couldn’t fuck me.”

It’s meant to be a dig, at him. Hiro supposes he should be offended, or embarrassed, or something; but, he just throws his head back in laughter. The idea of topping is, genuinely, hysterical. He supposes, for most men, the concept of topping is related to power, but Hiro has never felt anything but in complete control when he’s getting fucked. There’s a term for that—power bottom, he thinks—and, he wonders if Tadashi has ever considered that those silly dynamics are interchangeable in more ways than one.

“If you like being submissive so much, you ought to try having someone sit on your cock,” Hiro suggests, raising a brow. “I once saw this porno where this twenty-something twink tied up some burly wrestler-type and kept slapping his face as he fucked himself on the dude’s giant cock. It was weird.”

Tadashi’s mouth slants in concern for the statement, and Hiro loses himself in the image of what that mouth must look like when it’s wrapped around a nice, big dick. Tadashi probably is all pace when it comes to giving head. He’s probably oddly quiet, too.

“ _Hm_ , still—you’re lucky to have such a wide set jaw,” Hiro appraises. He reaches out and lifts the man’s chin to further examine his mouth. “My mouth is so small. There’s always that last inch that I can’t get down my throat. It’s very disappointing.”

His expression darkens. Mischievous but properly controlled. Hiro imagines what it would be like to slip down onto the man’s lap.

“I think you’d be a good top,” he then muses. His fingers brush Tadashi’s skin, and he’s surprised to feel a thin layer of stubble there. “You know all those pent-up frustrations you get when you can’t quite get a project to work? You could let ’em all out by taking that undoubtedly big cock of yours and fucking someone senseless. You could come inside their tight little ass and claim them as your own.”

Tadashi’s eyes go wide as he lets Hiro manhandle him. If he had any doubts beforehand about Hiro hitting on him, they’ve all disappeared, now. It’s remarkably clear that, _yes_ , this fourteen year-old wants Tadashi to fuck him.

Hiro is probably small and prepubescent. For some reason, that turns Tadashi on, and he feels his insides twist at the idea. The image of Hiro bouncing on a dick while his own tiny cock leaks… Good fucking _Lord_.

He thinks it would be impossible for Hiro to top. The poor thing loves cock too much for anything else. He better pray that boyish look keeps up into adulthood.

Admittedly, it’s kind of refreshing to have such frank talk with another gay kid closer to his age. Robert always talks about shit like being a closeted married man, or Stonewall, or porn theaters, and it’s painfully hard to relate. Hiro, though? Hiro is an unapologetically gay teenager, much like Tadashi, who isn’t afraid to speak his mind. At the very least, they can understand each other.

With a surprising level of dominance, Tadashi snatches Hiro wrist and keeps the boy in place.

“If you want me to fuck you so bad, all you have to do is ask.”

Hiro’s entire face lights up. His heart leaps with delight, and he gazes down at the older man, pleased.

“See,” he breathes out, darkly. “You have it in you, _’Dashi.”_

As quickly as his eyes had lit up, Hiro pulls away from the man, hopping off the desk and positioning himself back at the center of the lab.

“So, one of my tasks for this internship is to gather information on current projects pertaining to human mobility. Baymax doesn’t quite fit the bill; so, I was wondering if you knew any students who were working on autonomous robotics projects?”

Hiro pulls his phone out again, pretending to look over some notes. Really, he’s just reading a text from Gogo, which explains she got caught up having to fill out more paperwork for the internship.

“You know, you’d probably be a lot better at this internship than me,” Hiro ponders. “Have you thought about applying for one at Krei Tech? You might be able to get back on my dad’s good side that way.”

Tadashi blinks, and his struggle to collect himself is amusing, to Hiro. The man just stays in his swivel chair, frozen, and Hiro wonders if the man is hard, right now. It’s not as though the idiot would’ve actually fucked him. He might be talking tough and trying to show off some dominance, but Hiro knows he doesn’t have enough confidence yet. The shift in gears is so stark that Tadashi thinks he’s getting whiplash from this conversation.

“I mean, um—I’m working on a robot that would hand me tools and stuff,” he says, scratching his neck and trying to dissect Hiro’s words. “It could probably help people who can’t reach for anything themselves.”

Hiro is obviously a genius, so why would he say something so self-depreciating? Just to impress Tadashi, or make him feel better? Hiro seems so set on getting him to apply to Krei Tech, or to accept the offer, as if it personally affects him.

“Have you thought that, maybe, I’m not the type who works for big companies like that?” he asks, and it’s true enough.

Even without Robert’s input, he doesn’t know how comfortable he would be entering a business so soon, and without any experience. In any case, a job would mean skipping out on the rest of college.

“I feel like your dad is more invested in me than I am in him,” he points out. “I don’t really care if I’m on Alistair Krei’s shitlist. You’re forgetting that I’m funded by the other most powerful name in robotics.”

“Who—Robert Callaghan?” Hiro says, scoffing. “Please. Who the fuck cares about him? He came up with that Catmull-Callaghan Spline eons ago. Back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth. At least my father started an empire. Half the shit in here has my father’s logo on it.”

It’s more than true. Even Tadashi’s wristwatch is Krei Tech. The look Tadashi’s face is priceless. He seems torn between throwing a fit and wanting to deck Hiro.

“Did you just straight up reject my dad’s offer?” Hiro then wonders, because he honestly doesn’t know. “You probably could’ve asked for, like, triple what he offered and gotten it. I mean, shit—don’t you want to be a millionaire?”

Tadashi is probably a few inflammatory statements away from punching Hiro in the jaw, when the door creaks open. The energy between them, which Tadashi hadn’t even noticed, dissipates. And, now, it feels empty in the lab, like all the air has been sucked out.

Gogo Tomago pokes her head in, appraises the both of them, and gives Hiro a look that could set him flat on his ass. Hiro is defiant, though. Chin in the air, even as Gogo walks over to metaphorically put a leash on him.

“I need your signature on the forms,” she announces, and Hiro looks unhappy, which gives Tadashi a rush of satisfaction. Gogo turns to Tadashi and quickly says: “Sorry—he’s probably been annoying you.”

Tadashi gives Hiro a smug smirk and shrugs. “He’s nothing I can’t handle. A bit mouthy, though.”

Gogo rolls her eyes. Tadashi realizes, belatedly, that she probably understood the innuendo. Hiro says something on the way out, but Tadashi pointedly tries to ignore it. Instead, he whips out his phone and dials Robert.

“His son is doing his _internship_ work here,” he says, without so much as a greeting. Tadashi rubs the bridge of his nose. “God, Robert… He’s such a little asshole, and he won’t stop flirting with me.”

* * *

Robert sighs, loudly, as he hangs up the phone and gathers his paperwork and notes into his briefcase. He’s still a bit ashamed for having kept the information about Hiro to himself. He hadn’t mentioned it because he knew, if he had, Tadashi would probably make a point to find the kid.

He just dismissed his first class of the day, and he had every intention of calling Tadashi, afterward. The younger man beat him to it, though.

Like Tadashi, Robert has spent a copious amount of time searching online for information on Hiro. The information is scattered, and there are far more photos of him roaming around San Fransokyo, as captured by the paparazzi, than there is any useful information about what the hell the kid is up to, these days. He’s not in college. He’s not employed. All he has is an internship with Krei Tech, which means nothing.

Robert hates this all far more than he’d like to admit. He thought he kicked his habit of monitoring Alistair Krei’s every move almost a two decades ago; but, in just the past few days, curiosity has continued to get the better of him. Once again, last night, he found himself spiraling down an endless combination of word searches and trashy, ad-ridden websites.

The photos of Alistair and Hiro at Krei Tech sponsored events are, of course, expected. But, Alistair appears to spend more time with his stepson that Robert ever expected. They are often photographed on weekends, together. At restaurants. Museums. Even the park, once. There are even a handful of photos of just the two of them that were captured while Maemi Takachiho was still alive.

Robert just doesn’t understand it. His history with Alistair may not be pleasant, but he still likes to think he knew the man well. And, knowing the man included recognizing how completely lacking the man was of parental instinct. For God’s sake, he’d barely acknowledge Abigail.

At the lab, Robert finds Tadashi busying himself with schoolwork. For once, he doesn’t seem to be working on Baymax, or any robotics project. He’s doing English homework.

“I should’ve warned you,” Robert greets when Tadashi notices him. He offers a comforting pat on the younger man’s shoulders, resisting the urge to completely take him in his arms. “I had hoped you’d be spared running into him. Now, what’s all this about him flirting again?”

Thankfully, he manages to sound amused—if not for any other reason than for how pouty Tadashi appears, at the moment. Tadashi does feel marginally better with Robert by his side, though. It still bothers him that Hiro showed up in the first place; but, what makes it worse is all the goddamn flirting. It’s inappropriate. Disgusting. And, _well_ —a little hot.

“He pretty blatantly talked about how he wanted me to fuck him,” Tadashi admits, standing, and Robert frowns; “and, _God_ , he kept getting all nosey about the hickey you gave me.”

When he turns to his professor, there’s no pretense about how he falls into Robert’s arms. Maybe he should just tell Hiro that he’s taken, even if it isn’t entirely true.

“He doesn’t want anything more than that, though,” Tadashi explains. Even he notices the slight disappointment in his tone. “There was _no_ subtlety.”

Robert swallows. “He’s quite the forward one, isn’t he?”

“That’s not even the half of it,” he continues. “Holy shit, Robert. He said something about sleeping with _married men_. Married men! _Then_ ,he talked about his favorite part of sucking dick.”

At that, Robert has to take a moment to choose his next words, carefully. There are variety of obscenities on the tip of his tongue, ones that would shame Hiro into next fucking week; but, even if Robert didn’t know better, he recognizes that hearing those things would probably offend Tadashi.

But, it’s disturbing. And, not just because Hiro is Alistair Krei’s stepson. Everything about the whole ordeal is just off. Robert thinks back at the assorted images he dug up, last night. One photo in particular—the two of them at the Museum of Fine Arts—struck Robert as particularly unsettling because Alistair was holding Hiro’s hand. It wasn’t parental. Not even protective. It looked… strangely aggressive. Possessive. And, Hiro looked more than comfortable.

Robert tries not to choke. He’s being paranoid. Delusional. Alistair Krei is many things, but not—

_—not that._

“He seems very disturbed, Tadashi,” Robert offers, calmly. He rubs at Tadashi’s back before urging him away so he can look at the man better. “It’s common knowledge that his mother was quite the… busy socialite. I wouldn’t be surprised if he picked up those same habits.”

Would those learned skills be enough to persuade Alistair into an illicit affair? Would Hiro be troubled enough to lure his own stepfather into bed, out of sheer amusement, or needy manipulation?

“Listen,” he then says, his tone shifting; “this is all probably some very bizarre game, to Hiro.”

Tadashi nods, silently, and lets his gaze drops. “Yeah. I just wish I knew what the hell was going on in that kid’s head.”

“Please, Tadashi,” Robert says, grabbing Tadashi’s hands. “Stay away from him.”

* * *

Every hour, Alistair checks his email for a change of heart from Hamada. It never comes. He’s both pleased and anxious about it. He doesn’t want Hiro to touch anyone else, but he wants that goddamn robot.

Hiro practically pounces on him, when he arrives home later that evening. Unlike the other night, where his son chose to pathetically sit in the dark, Hiro has turned on a few lights and is even in the middle of watching a show on the flat screen.

Alistair wastes no time. He kisses Hiro, deeply and fully, with an arm secured around his waist. 

“I take it you weren’t successful on your first day, then,” he says, curiously.

He moves away to put his keys on the keyring and shrugs off his suit jacket. As he loosens his tie, he catches a glimpse of the dishes in the sink. Hiro, despite being his lover, remains a lazy teenager most days. He decides to ignore mentioning that Hiro should have rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher.

“I hope you got at least a rise out of him,” Alistair comments. “I saw your texts. You shouldn’t be using those words, Hiro. It just gives others the opportunity to use them against you.”

Hiro bites back a laugh. “Okay, Dad,” he replies, shaking his head with disbelief. “As if you don’t look at Tadashi Hamada and not think _giant fag_ , too.”

He guides his father toward the couch, where he’s been sitting for the past couple of hours, mindlessly watching television. He pulls one of the knitted blankets over them and presses closer to the man. Hiro has plenty of sexual tension he’d love to release; but, as of now, he’s actually enjoying the feeling of a lazy May evening.

After all, he got up and did something, today. He’s tired. He deserves to lounge around for a bit.

“You know, he’s not as inept as I thought,” Hiro admits, fascinated. “He’s getting fucked on the regular. Some older dude with an eight inch cock, apparently. Tadashi says he can swallow the whole thing.”

Hiro raises his brow for emphasis, then settles against his father.

“What’s the biggest dick you’ve taken?” Hiro then asks. “And, don’t lie, to me, because I know you’ve taken cock before.”

Hiro has never particularly wanted to interrogate Alistair on his sexuality, because it always seemed unimportant. He’s fucking him, and that’s all that matters, really. But, Tadashi Hamada seems comfortable with his sexuality in a way Hiro’s not familiar when it comes to older men. Most of Hiro’s experiences have been with men giving into temptation for the first time. And, Alistair—well, Hiro still occasionally has fleeting suspicions his marriage to Maemi was a last ditch effort to keep tabloids from debating his sexuality.

“That’s not important,” Alistair stumbles out. “You don’t really care to hear about that, do you?”

“Oh, but I do,” Hiro insists, stretching up to kiss his father’s chin. “You never talk about this sort of stuff. I want to know. It’s interesting. So, tell me: When was the first time you got nice and fucked?”

Alistair is visibly flustered. Hiro knows the man would much rather talk about anything in the universe, and that makes it all the better. It’s clear his father doesn’t want Hiro to think of him as anything other than a strong, dominating top, as though the revelation his father once took a dick up his ass somehow makes him lose some sort of credentials. Hiro almost laughs. He doesn’t understand the appeal of topping. He’d much rather lay back, being spread and teased and fucked.

“Well,” Alistair says, having to actually dig through his memories; “I guess I was in grad school the first time I let someone—you know.”

It was different, new. Alistair has been having gay interactions ever since he was a teenager, but it all sort of muddles together, when he has to recall them. Christ, he had tried to repress it for so long that he probably permanently buried a lot of the memories.

“Before that, I only ever topped,” he admits.

Hiro didn’t actually expect his father to answer, so the information delights him. He wonders how well Alistair took cock, how loudly he moaned and whether he allowed his partner to come inside him. It turns Hiro on to think of his father so vulnerable. 

“Tell me about him,” the boy presses. “Come on. I’ll tell you all about Hamada’s inadequate dick, once I get him where I want.”

Alistair feels entirely out of his element, talking about this. All the dominance he’s portrayed in this relationship with Hiro feels sucked away. It’s almost unbearable. But, Hiro looks like he’s thoroughly invested in getting every detail.

“He was older,” he offers. “He had already graduated several years ago, but I met him through a mutual friend.”

He’s aware, at this point, it sounds incredibly uninteresting. At the time, it hadn’t felt that way. It was passionate and intense, and Alistair remembers thinking he could never feel as connected to another human being as he did with him. Back then, Robert Callaghan had been his world.

Hiro makes an appreciative noise for the information. He scoots closer, still engaged enough in the story that his hands don’t find themselves stripping his father of his clothes just yet.

“So, then, tell me about when you topped for the first time,” he says. “Was it some scrawny little twink? Christ. Why did you even bother with women, in the first place?”

Alistair sighs. “It was a very different time, Hiro,” he says, almost scolding. “I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today as an openly gay man. If you wanted to be successful, you were straight. And, so, I tried to be straight.”

He can vividly remember all his failed relationships with women, because they were difficult and disastrous. When it came time to have sex, he felt disinterested. It was never terrible, just— _boring_. 

“So, that _is_ why you married my mom, then?” Hiro asks.

The question kind of comes out before he even realizes the weight of it.

But, it’s always been there in the back of his mind. He figures it’s possible both he and Maemi were equally manipulative, that they both entered the marriage fully understanding they were using each other. So, why did they bother ever fucking? His mother had grown bored of the marriage within weeks, and both Alistair and Hiro knew her late night outs were not the result of getting caught up with old female friends.

Hiro flops down over Alistair’s lap and stares up at him, his expression far less heated than it had been a moment ago.

“Did you want to fuck me, when we first met?” Hiro wonders. “I was only thirteen, back then. I mean, I knew I wanted to fuck you, because you looked at me in this really stern way that told me how good of a fuck you’d be, but—shit, I never expected you to actually marry my mom.”

The tone shifts, and Alistair finds himself looking at a fourteen year-old boy instead of a sexual partner. He has to remember that Hiro is just a child, that he doesn’t quite understand the concept of closeted. That he truly has no idea about the history surrounding his sexuality, because he had always been wordlessly taught that it was mostly accepted.

Alistair wonders if Hiro even is gay, or if he’s just been surrounded by so many lecherous men growing up that it’s affected his psyche. Then again, he’s never met anyone else who loves cock as much as his son does.

“Sometimes, people lie to themselves so they can pretend they aren’t what they are,” he says, and a voice in his mind is screaming at him. Something about pedophilia and how much of a hypocrite he is being, right now. “Your mother made it easy to pretend that I could like women. She focused all of her energy into getting me into bed. It helped me feel—normal, I guess.”

He remembers back when he first started seeing Hiro as a sexual being. It hadn’t been any single realization, so much as it had been a gradual build-up of instances. 

“I’m not attracted to anyone else your age, Hiro,” Alistair then reminds him, and his voice is faraway. “Even after we slept together, I struggled to really understand it. Especially after you told me what she had been doing.”

Hiro turns his gaze away. He hates when his father gets into this whole mess, hates how he speaks in such a delicate fashion. He sounds like a goddamn therapist.

“When did she first…?” Alistair begins to ask, but his words drift away before he restarts. “When was the first time?”

“I was eleven,” Hiro admits with a shrug, and Alistair inhales. “He was this really rich guy. Owned a bunch of jewelry stores downtown. My mom was just trying to get a diamond necklace out of it. But, he was weird, and even I could tell he was a creep. One day, my mom left me with him for a weekend, and he just—did it.”

It’s not a pleasant memory. But, Hiro also doesn’t look back at it and think it was traumatizing, either. It just sort of happened.

“We never saw him again,” Hiro admits. “He left a bunch of diamond jewelry, and that was it. From then on, my mom would make me do her dirty work when she couldn’t get men to fold, or if we just needed some cash. Worked every time.”

Hiro laughs, darkly. Most of those pieces of jewelry helped convince other men that Maemi already had money, that she didn’t need theirs and could be trusted. All worth it in the end, he thinks. His mother probably never would’ve met Alistair, otherwise.

“Does that bother you?” Hiro wonders, holding a lustful tone that is, by all means, inappropriate for the tale. “The thought of other men fucking me? How are you going to feel when I have Hamada’s dick down my throat, _hm_?”

Even now, he’s trying to flirt. Attempting to make Alistair jealous through other men. It’s almost enough to make Alistair fall speechless. He tries to remind himself that Hiro still thinks of this as a fun game, that he doesn’t find anything odd when talking about his past experiences being prostituted by his mother.

Hiro is so, so far from any man or woman Alistair has ever encountered. For obvious reasons, _yes_ , but also because he doesn’t seem to _care_. He has no sense of jealousy, no protective instinct. Hiro’s dissociation shapes and shifts and always—always—rounds its way back to a desperation for sex.

At the risk of ruining everything, Alistair chooses to continue playing the game.

“I’ll know that you’re fucking him because I told you to,” Alistair says as he slides his hands along Hiro’s thighs. “It won’t matter how much you suck him off, because I was the one who ordered you to do it. He doesn’t have control over you. _I do_. Isn’t that right?”

Hiro sighs, happily, as his father’s hands roam up his thighs, inching closer and closer to where he wants them most. He particularly enjoys when Alistair jerks him off. His father’s hands are so large, so intimidating, and the way his fingers wrap around Hiro’s small cock always makes him shiver.

He’s instantly hard when Alistair pushes him back down on the couch and hovers over him. His father gives him a very particular gaze, one that seems both shameless and sentimental. He wonders what it means.

“You know I’ll always do what you want me to, Daddy,” he purrs out, smirking.


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been hours since Gogo abandoned Hiro to go back to the Krei Tech office. He thought his phone would keep him distracted from the current assignment, but it’s not much fun when Alistair doesn’t respond to his texts, his pouty photos, his _phone calls_. Hiro makes a mental note to ask Gogo for Honey Lemon’s phone number, because he knows the young receptionist would respond to his bored texts in a heartbeat.

Irritated, He stares at his attempts of statistics and proper note writing. It’s a mess, and it doesn’t help that most of the students here don’t understand he’s actually an intern and not just some high school kid who got lost from his tour group.

Hiro almost falls asleep until he hears the clamor of tools and books toppling onto the tiled floor. He jolts back into proper consciousness and catches sight of Tadashi’s failed efforts to balance a giant toolbox beneath a stack of fucking dictionary-sized textbooks. The man must not be aware there’s anyone nearby, because the string of swear words that fall from his mouth are rather surprising.

“Would it have killed you to make two trips?” Hiro asks from the lab bench.

Tadashi drops the remaining books onto the ground and stares.

He’s not surprised that Hiro is here, but it still makes his insides coil. Robert practically made him swear he’d stay away from the kid. Tadashi wishes he could say he’s forgotten all about Hiro since the last time he saw him, but that would be a lie. In many ways, he hasn’t stopped thinking about Hiro Takachiho-Krei and all his insufferable, bizarrely fascinating ways.

“From all the way across campus?” Tadashi grumbles as he enters the code for his lab. “Yes. Yes, it would’ve killed me.” 

Tadashi sweeps the mountain of books into the lab with his foot and kicks his toolbox alongside them. Hiro is following him inside, and Tadashi doesn’t protest, which, along with the kid’s immediate need to belittle him, is already a sign this isn’t going to end well. Tadashi is beginning to think this kid’s technique is to be such a huge asshole that someone fucks him out of sheer annoyance.

When he collapses onto his chair, exhausted, he notices Hiro has more hickeys on his neck. His lip also looks a little bruised. _God._ Why would he bother flirting with a pathetic bottom like Tadashi, when he’s so obviously getting fucked on the regular?

“ _So_ ,” Hiro starts, teasingly; “how’s your day going?”

He watches Tadashi’s eyes narrow. The guy is looking far less nerdy than he did, last week. His attire is less grandfather and more casual. He’s even wearing a baseball cap with the school’s logo on it. He’s passing as an average college student, that’s for sure. Hiro appreciates the sweaty, matted hair that sticks to his forehead when the man takes off his cap and wipes it.

“Busy,” Tadashi replies as he starts up his computer. “What about you? What were you working on, out there?”

Hiro has his head tilted, reading the dropped books on the floor. _Fundamentals of Physics. Advanced Mechanical Engineering._ All pretty standard textbooks.

“Statistical analysis bullshit,” he tells him. “Mindless busy work from Gogo. _Some_ of the stuff is interesting, though! I have Krei Tech’s numbers from the past quarter, and they’re, of course, beyond impressive. Did you know my dad’s company made more money in the past three months than our two leading competitors—combined?”

He smiles, proudly, and thinks back to the night Alistair received those numbers. He had given Hiro some champagne, which had gone straight to the boy’s head in ten minutes, flat. The night ended with Hiro begging his father to fuck him on the balcony terrace.

“Knew that was coming.” Tadashi rolls his eyes. “Look, if you’re still trying to guilt me about rejecting your dad’s offer, just beat it, okay? I like being here at SFIT.”

“Even more than the thought of vacationing on some fancy island, right now?”

Tadashi snorts. “For me, anywhere away from my hometown is a vacation,” he admits. “I’d probably be picking tomatoes with my aunt, right about now.”

He loves his aunt and all; but, _Christ_ , that town is such a waste of time. Everyone went to bed by nine o’clock, and you had to buy your food from a farm if you wanted something that hadn’t been frozen. The city life of San Fransokyo is fucking fantastic. He could stay here all summer, if he had somewhere to crash.

Tadashi is nearly convinced they’re on the verge of a normal conversation until he catches how the boy is staring at his dick through his pants. Like he’s trying to gauge if it’s worth anything. Tadashi just raises an eyebrow at his blatant disregard for subtly. 

“Did it ever occur, to you, that I’m not actually into petulant little children who follow me around like a lost puppy?” he asks, and there’s a flicker of annoyance in Hiro’s eyes. “I’m into older guys. You’re not even tall enough to do me from behind without a booster seat.”

Hiro laughs, and the sincerity of it makes Tadashi frown. “That’s fine by me, dude,” he tells him, flatly. “I wouldn’t _want_ to do you from behind. Where the hell is the fun in that? Besides—sounds like too much work.”

Tadashi wonders if it’s even possible to insult this kid, or if everything he says will somehow be twisted into an opportunity for further flirting, further insinuation. Tadashi moves to collect his books from the floor. There are several folded blueprints inside, which Hiro takes notice and watches Tadashi spread across the lab bench. They’re very rudimentary designs. Probably for some class and not actually a project. Hiro wonders what Baymax’s blueprints look like, whether they’re even legible after all the redesigns Tadashi must’ve gone through when perfecting the nursebot.

“Just tell me the real reason you turned down my dad’s offer,” Hiro presses. “Do you not have enough faith in Baymax yet? Are you afraid Krei Tech will find something wrong with its design before signing off on a patent?”

Tadashi glances over at the red case on the floor. He’s barely touched Baymax since the expo. It’s difficult not to think about Krei Tech’s offer and Hiro and everything else while working on the robot. Right now, he just needs a break from Baymax.

“I had some advice from someone I trust,” he answers. “I just don’t feel comfortable selling Baymax to a corporation that big.”

Hiro hums and starts to clack his fingernails against the lab bench. “I’m just asking because I’d hate to see you miss out on a great opportunity,” he continues, easily. “Three years from now, when you graduate, Baymax is going to be old news. Irrelevant. You’ll have to take some dead end job and forever be reminded of how you should’ve signed that multi-million dollar deal.”

Tadashi isn’t one for pride, but he knows he’s too good, too talented to wind up at a dead end job. Really, Baymax could get buried at Krei Tech. They have bigger and better technology there, and having a patent means shit when you have to manufacture and perfect and produce. At Krei Tech, it’s hard to say if Baymax will even stand out. And, obviously, Tadashi wants his invention to actually be put to use. 

Hiro seems to think this is all about money. He’s certainly the kind of person who would think that—a spoiled, rich kid, who only cares about his father’s company—so, Tadashi considers that, maybe, he doesn’t quite understand how Baymax could help people. 

“I have a lot of faith in Baymax,” he says, quieter. He almost feels embarrassed. “I want to see him do what he’s meant to do, and big corporations tend to muddle that. I wouldn’t even have any control in it. Patents are messy things, Hiro. It’s more complicated when you actually care about your invention.”

Hiro pretends to muse over Tadashi’s words as he crosses his arms and looks at him, critically.

“Maybe whoever you spoke to is trying to play you,” Hiro theorizes. “That happens all the time in the science field, you know. People get chummy with one another, but they’re always jealous. Maybe they don’t want you to do better than them, so they’re holding you back and pretending they’re actually looking out, for you.”

Something changes in Tadashi’s expression. It’s clear that, for a split second, he’s actually considering it, doubting himself.

“I know I’m bias because Alistair Krei is my dad,” he says; “but, he’s done amazing things. I certainly can’t imagine he’d do anything to harm what Baymax represents. My dad isn’t like that. People just—they always try to make big wigs look like assholes.”

Hiro shrugs his shoulders, then leans closer to the man to assess the blueprints again.

“This equation is wrong,” he tells him, pointing to a string of calculations. “The answer should be negative, not positive, genius.”

Hiro is pointing to an equation that had taken Tadashi a week to work out. He almost doesn’t believe it; but, then, he sees a glaring error. He’s normally not embarrassed by his math mistakes, but it shocks him how Hiro quickly found it. Robert must not have been exaggerating when he said Hiro was intelligent.

“Thanks,” Tadashi says, grabbing a pencil to erase the answer. “Listen… When I say I want to wait for other offers, what I mean is, I want to wait for, say, a company specific to healthcare. I’m not completely denying your dad. I mean, if he’s even still interested after I turned him down.”

He can almost hear Robert telling him that it’s a bad idea to open up that door after he’s closed it. Hiro slinks closer to Tadashi and positions himself in front of the lab bench. There’s just enough distance so that Tadashi hesitates to move. He averts his gaze, trying not to feel trapped, but Hiro’s voice is so goddamn silky when he speaks, next.

“Maybe you should’ve talked, to him, then,” he says. He’s rubbing his foot against Tadashi’s ankle. “You could’ve easily arranged a meeting. My father is a _very_ considerate of other people’s needs, you know. _Hm._ But, instead, you just blew him off, completely. That wasn’t very nice.”

The rush of blood to Tadashi’s face appears just as intense as the thrill that whirlwinds through Hiro.

“You seem to be under the impression the offer wasn’t flexible. It could go entirely by your terms, your conditions. Baymax is yours, after all. You could even bargain for creative control. Whatever you’ve been told about Krei Tech seems very misleading.”

Hiro moves closer so that his thigh is sliding against him. He can see Tadashi’s complexion burning. Men are so easy, Hiro thinks. So stupid. He has to bite back a laugh when he moves closer. Tadashi’s breath hitches, and he stares down at the younger boy, eyes wide.

Tadashi is starting to recognize how older men fall into this trap. Older men who have never had a gay experience. Older men who missed the opportunity to experiment when they were Hiro’s age. It wouldn’t be easy to suddenly have it presented, to them—dressed in shorts and a skintight shirt.

It would be really, really easy to let this go too far. Hiro obviously has the agenda. Tadashi is willing to play along, but he’s not quite ready to fuck a fourteen year-old, despite his teasing the other day.

Still. Hiro needs to know his place.

Tadashi takes a step forward and traps Hiro between the table and his own body. He _towers_ over the boy from this angle, and the air between them turns heated and dark. Hiro’s lips part, and the smallest, quietest moan escapes him. Tadashi wonders how those lips would feel against his own—or, somewhere else, really.

Tadashi leans down, close to Hiro’s ear, and murmurs: “All this might work on closeted breeders, but it isn’t going to work on me.”

He pushes away, grabbing a textbook and moving back over to his desk.

Hiro stays in place He blinks. Breathes. And, he’s just about to say something cruel when he hears the lab doors sliding open.

“You didn’t respond to my text, so I just got you a regular latte. Figured you might want an afternoon pick-me-up.”

Robert Callaghan.

Hiro recognizes the face, the voice. The man’s tunnel vision has him heading straight for Tadashi, extending his arm and offering the small paper cup before he realizes they’re not alone.

He visibly stiffens.

“Oh, I—”

—and there’s a look of shock, distress, anger—

“—didn’t see you there,” he says, calmly. His recovery is impressive. “You must be Miss Tomago’s intern. Alistair Krei’s—stepson. Pleased to meet you.”

He reaches out for a handshake. Hiro is still attempting to breathe properly when he remembers this is the guy who is sponsoring Tadashi.

“Robert Callaghan!” Hiro chirps, transforming into all smiles and good manners as he takes the man’s hand, excitedly. “Gosh. What an honor. You know, your Catmull-Callaghan Spline theory sure did change the way I looked at robotics forever. I can’t believe I’m meeting you!”

The handshake feels tighter than it should, Hiro thinks. Challenging. Tadashi watches the exchange with some concern. He’s a bit worried Robert is going to break Hiro’s hand; but, then again, the boy might deserve it. His polite, over-the-top tone is painfully fake.

“He kind of—um, let himself in,” Tadashi explains. He feels guilty for letting Robert see this, like he’s been caught in some kind of act, despite knowing he’s allowed to talk to other boys. “I haven’t been looking at my phone. Sorry.” 

Why does he feel so awful about this? They aren’t in a relationship, Tadashi reminds himself; they never were and aren’t going to be, because it isn’t like that. 

Hiro looks between the two men, like he’s working out a huge calculus problem. Tadashi sips his latte, trying to look as innocent as possible, but he hates how bitter it tastes. His misplaced anger makes it easier to resent that Robert doesn’t know he likes his lattes sweet.

Hiro continues to smile up at Robert, and it makes the older man’s stomach churn. This kid is clearly putting on an act. Robert would sense it, even without Tadashi’s testaments of how bizarre he is, how bratty. He doesn’t want to stare, but it’s difficult not to when the kid has marks all over his neck and a bruised mouth. Robert tries to imagine someone actually inflicting those on such a small child, and it makes him feel physically ill. Even more so when he considers the identity of that person.

“You are correct, though,” Hiro continues; “I am Alistair Krei’s _son_ , and I’m sure _’Dashi_ told you all about when we met at the expo!”

Robert allows for a smile, albeit an uneasy one. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I was just explaining, to him, that he may have been a bit rash with his decision regarding Baymax,” he says. He’s practically batting his eyelashes. “I mean, I fully respect his decision if that’s actually want he wants, but—you know how people are in the field. There’s always _someone_ trying to cross you.”

The boy’s eyes flicker with an all too concerning bout of knowledge. Robert doesn’t want to feel intimidated by some fourteen year-old kid, but he holds himself too well. His mannerisms even remind Robert of Alistair, and that sends a shiver down his spine.

It’s been many, many years since he thought about the brutal ways Alistair patronized him in those last months together.

“I’m sure you’ve learned quite a bit about the industry through your father,” Robert offers. His tone is clipped but his expression remains somewhat poised. “Tadashi—may I speak with you outside, for a moment?”

Tadashi feels like a scolded child as he heads toward the door, and he sees Hiro hop back to the blueprints with a smug grin on his face. Smarmy little shit. Tadashi is thankful he stopped their encounter when he did.

Once the lab door closes, and the hallway appears clear, Tadashi attempts to get the first word.

“He seriously was already in the building before I got here,” he rushes out. “I mean, I can’t tell him to leave. He’s just a kid. It’s not his fault that he’s a little… odd.”

Odd is an understatement. Hiro is fourteen and making moves like he’s been bar-hopping for dick every night for the past ten years. Tadashi is pretty sure he’ll never be able to act that smooth. He’s proud of himself for even managing to catch Hiro off guard, earlier.

“He’s nothing I can’t handle,” Tadashi emphasizes. “Seriously. He’s just a whiny kid.”

“He’s also Alistair Krei’s son,” Robert reminds him, curtly.

Tadashi is crushed by the tone, and Robert hates it; but, right now, he’s not talking to Tadashi as a lover but as his professor, his mentor.

“I meant it when I said you need to stay away from him,” the man advises again. “For you own well-being. For Baymax’s. It’s not a coincidence that this kid showed up a few days after you rejected his father’s business deal. He’s clearly has an ulterior motive.”

It’s harsh. Too harsh. Not only is Robert acting like a jealous boyfriend, but he’s implying Hiro’s only means of interest is manipulation and nothing genuine. It probably sounds possessive, above all else.

“Hiro isn’t an extension of his father,” Tadashi tries to say, comfortingly. “Hell, they’re not even technically related. He’s fourteen, Robert; do you really think he’s going to listen to his father enough to agree to dupe me?”

Tadashi doesn’t know what to make of this conversation. Robert’s accusations are not anything Tadashi hasn’t already considered, but he’s finding it necessary to defend Hiro, because his professor sounds jealous, and it’s unnerving He’s never sent mixed signals before; but, now, Tadashi feels as though Robert is attempting to profess a much deeper meaning to their relationship. It’s written all over the man’s face: The hesitation, the anguish, the fear. Tadashi isn’t surprised when Robert looks around the corridor, checking for any other students, before he grabs his hand and rubs at his knuckles.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured this out,” Robert starts, awkwardly; “but, Alistair Krei and I have… history. So, yes, what I’ve said about him before is deeply personal, but that doesn’t mean my opinion of him as a businessman is invalid. He’s not a good person, Tadashi, and I don’t think his son is, either.”

Indeed, Tadashi already expected as much. Of course his issues with Alistair Krei have been personal. Tadashi knows better than to demand a further explanation, but he still wishes Robert would trust him enough to admit that, maybe, it’s not such a horrible idea to setup a meeting with Krei Tech.

“It doesn’t have to be that complicated,” Tadashi says. “Even if I just spoke, to him—you know, outline what I want from a patent—then, maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Robert almost says too much. He almost spills it all, shouting for Tadashi to never, _ever_ do such a foolish thing, and he’s so goddamn close that he feels the single syllable on his tongue.

But, he can’t do that, to Tadashi.

“That has to be your choice,” Robert breathes out. “I can’t make that decision, for you. I—I know you value my opinion; but, Baymax is your invention, not mine. I don’t want to be the one holding you back, if you see a future by signing with Krei Tech.”

He squeezes Tadashi’s hand—firm but tenderly—before he lets go. They hold their gazes for a second longer, and Robert wishes he could kiss the younger man, right now. 

“I have to go,” Robert says, quickly. “I have class soon. I’ll—text you, okay?”

Tadashi opens his mouth to speak, but Robert is already turning to head down the hall. He feels gutted and confused. For several seconds, Tadashi just stands there, trying to make sense of it. Then, he remembers Hiro.

Back inside the lab, Hiro is staring at his phone, shocked to find that his father has texted him. He scrolls up the log, just to confirm that it has been nearly two weeks since his father has bothered to respond to any of his dirty texts.

> Are you sore, Hiro?  
>  Sent at 1:25 p.m.

His stomach flares with arousal, and it’s a comforting reminder that, no matter how thrilling it is to tease and torment Tadashi, it’ll never compare to _this._ Hiro bites his bottom lip, which is puffy and, _yes_ , very sore. Most of his body is sore, really. He focuses on the strain he feels in his thighs and the sensitivity between his legs, and smirks.

> yes, daddy  
>  Sent at 1:26 p.m.

He adds a few heart emojis in a subsequent text, then gazes up at Tadashi who has slumped back into his desk chair. The older man drags his hands over his face, groaning at pretty much everything that has consisted of his day so far. _God._ If Robert wanted him to make an unbiased decision, why the _hell_ did he make it so apparent that he cared so much? Tadashi can’t sign with Krei Tech, knowing it would upset his professor.

He’s already upset his Robert, though. Robert disapproves of Hiro, regardless whether Tadashi just sees him as a potential friend, or something more. Tadashi glances at Hiro while the thought passes and allows himself the fantasy of staring at Hiro’s little puffy lip. Really, he’d probably suck cock fantastically. Tadashi can’t stop staring, once he thinks that. It’s easy to forget about Robert if he escapes into the notion of pointless, passionate sex.

When Hiro glances back, Tadashi doesn’t look away. They could so easily fall into that, right now. Hiro has shown that he’s more than willing, even if it’s something quick and dirty. It’s taboo, which causes heat to rise up Tadashi’s neck. No one would have to know and they’d just fuck, nice and hard, and maybe he’d find that topping isn’t so bad.

But, Tadashi isn’t Hiro’s type. He’s not old and perverted. He’s not married and, therefore, not hilarious to exploit. In so many ways, Tadashi and Hiro are equals. They’re just kids.

“Who gave you those hickeys, Hiro?” he asks, carefully. “And, who bruised your lip?”

Hiro flips his phone shut. “Some dirty old man,” he answers. He strolls back over to Tadashi. “I like when he gets rough. He’s really good at fucking me however I ask. His cock is bigger than my wrist.”

He swears he can hear Tadashi’s heart skip a beat. Hiro wants to throw his head back and cackle, because every bit of that horrendously awkward encounter between Robert and Tadashi has told him everything he needs to know. What total bullshit Tadashi spewed about meeting some older guy “off-campus.” Hiro could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

It all makes a load of sense, now. Robert is the one who advised Tadashi against Krei Tech. _Robert Callaghan._ The same Robert Callaghan who is sponsoring him and gave him this lab. Robert is the one who is bending him over the lab bench and fucking him.

So much for being a goodie two shoes. Tadashi is fucking his professor.

“I bet you know all about dirty old men, though, huh?” Hiro coos, and they stare—another challenge—before Tadashi closes his eyes and exhales.

Somehow, Tadashi knew Hiro would figure it out. The kid is too perspective—especially when it comes to anything remotely sexual. Of course he looked at the two of them and realized the extent of their relationship. Tadashi doesn’t feel ashamed, or embarrassed, or anything, really. In a weird way, he’s relieved. Maybe, now, he can talk about it with someone.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he mumbles. “He’d—get in a lot of trouble. Seriously, it’s not a game.”

“Who would I tell?” Hiro asks. Hiro furrows his brow, feigning disinterest. On the inside, all Hiro can think about is running home to tell his father. “I don’t give a shit. You can fuck all the professors on this campus, for all I care. I mean, like, unless you’re sleeping with him to get good grades, or something. Then, that’s scandalous. But, I mean, only stupid people who can’t make their grades do that. And, like, you made Baymax, so I know you’re not stupid. I mean, you are kind of stupid, but not that way. You know?”

Tadashi stares back at him, either trying to understand what he just said, or just being amazed that Hiro has no interest in this news. It is a useful bout of information, but Hiro’s not certain how to exploit it, right now. It’d be easy, sure, to blackmail Tadashi into getting him to sign over Baymax in exchange for his silence, but he has his doubts that’d go as planned. Tadashi could just deny it. There’s no proof, really. And, besides, Tadashi could easily start snooping about Hiro’s own affairs, and that’s the last thing he wants.

Hiro looks like he’s about to start cracking up, and Tadashi doesn’t know how to make that different. How is he taking this so well? Isn’t it super taboo to fuck a professor?

“We’re not, like, together,” Tadashi eventually clarifies. “We’re just fucking. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” Hiro replies. “He’s jealous. Even if you’re not in a relationship, you’re probably a part of his mid-life crisis, or whatever, and he’s worried he’s gonna lose you.”

Hiro looks incredibly pleased with himself 

“I bet his dick is all wrinkled and shit, so you could definitely use an upgrade with someone much younger. _Cuter_ , too.”

“He’s not like that,” Tadashi quickly defends, choosing to ignore the latter bait. “Listen, it’s impossible to mess around and not care about someone. I mean, maybe, for you, it is, but I’m not like that, and neither is he, okay? Robert just doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

Hiro considers Tadashi’s words. He’s definitely never cared about any of the men he fucked. And, Alistair... _Well_ , Hiro still doesn’t know where to place that situation. He likes their arrangement. He likes Alistair. But, anything beyond the comfort of what they have together is too complicated. He figures Alistair must feel the same, otherwise he wouldn’t be pimping his son out to some other guy.

“I still think you should consider he’s playing you,” Hiro reminds him. “I don’t think he wants to see you more successful than him.”

Tadashi stands, sighing, and walks over to the boy. It’s almost disturbing how quickly Hiro lights up to the prospect of Tadashi being close, to him. Does Hiro really want him that much? Does he really wilt this fast to the possibility of being cornered and dominated?

“There’s no way you love cock as much as you let on,” Tadashi says, and they both feel the atmosphere shift.

Tadashi’s latte sits on the desk, cold.

“Oh, but I do, Tadashi,” Hiro insists. His eyes glimmer with a challenging spark. “I love how it feels when it’s down my throat. I love how it feels between my hands and against my tongue. I especially love when it’s spreading me open and fucking me so hard that my vision nearly goes black.”

It can’t be that surprising, Hiro thinks. Tadashi is the one who has allowed himself to get fucked by his professor, time and time again. Is Tadashi that naïve to think Robert Callaghan gave him this lab and the resources to build Baymax, simply because he wanted to, because he “believed” in him? _Please_. Professor Callaghan probably never would’ve given Tadashi a second glance, had he not known the idiot was just as desperate for cock.

Tadashi tries not to inhale too deeply. He thinks about all those things with Robert, how, despite how satisfied he’s been with the sex, he’s still wondered about other men. He’s never actually seen another dick, anyway. Hiro’s probably small and child-like, which isn’t necessarily a turn-on, but he still finds himself advancing closer, trapping Hiro, once again, between him and the table.

“So much for not being like all those closeted homos, huh?”

Tadashi doesn’t back down, though. He inches closer, trying to get a rise out of the younger boy. There is definite heat between them. Tadashi might be a wimpy bottom, but he’s so goddamn frustrated right now, that he could probably fuck Hiro really well.

They stare at one another, and Tadashi doesn’t miss the way Hiro’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” Hiro taunts. Their bodies are still close, but Tadashi appears far more spiteful than aggressive, at this moment. “One little meeting with my dad isn’t going to kill you. And, it’s not like your boyfriend ever has to find out, either. He doesn’t track your every waking move, does he?”

He knows he’s making all valid points and that Tadashi is more than capable of comprehending them. But, he’s still too caught up in the morality of it. He probably thinks meeting with Krei Tech—even once—would damage his values for the rest of eternity.

“And, why do _you_ care so much?” Tadashi challenges, and he wonders if Hiro will actually do anything to get his way. By the looks of it, he’s a sad, lonely kid with nothing to lose. “What has you so invested in getting Baymax?”

Hiro’s eyes go dark with confidence, and he’s just about to say something else when his phone goes off. He hears Tadashi groan in annoyance, and Hiro could kick himself for not muting it earlier. When he reaches for it and sees that it’s another message from Alistair, he hesitates. It still gives Tadashi enough time to catch the name of the sender.

> Daddy ♥︎

His stomach churns, and there’s a wave of confusion for the sentiment, and Tadashi thinks, maybe, he hears Robert’s words echoing in his head. All the warnings, all the harsh facts about that family and their likely trail of secrets. Alistair and Hiro are definitely, under no circumstances, normal. 

Tadashi pulls away. It’s almost as if there are words between them that still need to be spoken, but Tadashi doesn’t want to get caught in Hiro’s web.

“Tell your _daddy_ that he’s not getting Baymax,” he says, grabbing his bag and heading toward the door. “Not if he thinks sending his little lackey out to persuade me is going to work. I’m not quite that easy.”

Hiro shoves his phone into his pocket and follows. “I already told you my dad doesn’t know I’m here,” he reminds him. “He’d probably kill me if he knew. Say something about how I should ‘stay out of Krei Tech matters,’ or some bullshit.”

It’s actually difficult to stay in stride with Tadashi. The man’s legs are much longer than his own, and he walks all too fast. Hiro makes a frustrated noise and jogs several steps ahead to keep up.

“Where are you going, anyway?” he asks. 

“I have class soon,” he tells him, still walking fast; “and, thanks to you, I’ve managed to get none of the work done that I wanted to get out of the way.”

“Well, _sorry_ ,” Hiro huffs. “Looks like you’ll have to reschedule a fuck date with your sugar daddy.”

“He’s not my _sugar daddy_ ,” he argues. “Christ, Hiro. He’s my professor, and we fuck, and we have a good time. Why are you trying to make it more complicated?”

“Because it is,” Hiro shoots back. “God, you’re stupid.”

Tadashi’s jaw tightens. He wonders how awful of a person he is for wanting to deck this fourteen year-old in the face. Probably not any worse than the person who has already considered fucking him. But, he does not have any more energy for Hiro, and he needs to get away from him.

“You can try again tomorrow to get me to sign over Baymax,” he says, his tone a bit chilly. “Hopefully, you’ll have a more convincing tactic that doesn’t involve insulting me.”

Hiro frowns before, ultimately, he stops and watches Tadashi continue down the hall, never missing a step, even when he realizes the younger boy is no longer following him.

_Fucker._

Hiro clenches a fist and turns on his heel, heading back the other way. Tadashi Hamada really is an idiot, he thinks. There’s no other explanation. How could someone possibly give up the opportunity to sign a contract with Krei Tech, to become filthy rich before even finishing his first year of university?

He’s not going to give up, though. This isn’t just about following Alistair’s orders anymore. There’s a real fucking challenge here, now—and, Hiro’s more than determined to win.

* * *

For the first time in months, Alistair is home before Hiro. Hiro is more than a little surprised when he unlocks the front door and finds the living room lights on, the smell of a home cooked meal floating from the kitchen.

He throws down his bag near the door and kicks off his shoes before advancing toward the island, where his father is chopping vegetables.

“You were feeling lascivious, today,” he comments, leaning over the counter and looking at his father, somewhat solemnly. “I can’t remember the last time you texted me anything worthwhile.”

Alistair whistles. “Lascivious! Where did you learn a word like that?”

Of course, the answer is that Hiro is a genius. He spends most of his time learning. When he isn’t learning, he’s thinking about cock. There’s really no in-between. Alistair laughs and carefully slices the pepper in his hand, trying not to think about Hiro alone in his room, touching himself in the dark.

“I was simply checking in on your progress,” he says, tossing the peppers into the stir-fry pan. He swirls it around, mindful not to spill anything. “You know I’ll always text you so long as it’s about business.”

He shoots Hiro a sarcastic grin, but his son looks impossibly dejected. _That_ is the sign of a boy who hasn’t sucked cock in over twenty-four hours. 

“He’s really not having it?” Alistair then ponders, and Hiro catches an unfamiliar hint of relief in his father’s words. “I suppose this is a lost cause. You don’t have to keep trying, if he’s that stubborn.”

Hiro makes a decidedly whiny noise as he slides onto one of the barstools. “No, I’m close,” he insists. “Listen, it’s not like he’s impossible to fuck. It’s just—he’s distracted and stupid, and he thinks he’s being, like, an upstanding moral citizen by shooting down your offer.” 

Alistair raises his brow, intrigued. He steps away from the stove and pours himself a glass of red wine. Hiro has no idea what his father is even cooking—some kind of stir-fry chicken concoction—but, he’s not hungry. 

“He’s fucking his professor,” Hiro explains, blandly. “Robert Callaghan. It’s how he got into your expo. That old pervert sponsored him.”

Alistair nearly chokes on his wine. Luckily, Hiro is too distracted to notice, and it gives Alistair a moment to recover. 

Robert. Robert is _fucking_ his student? He’s always known the man to be desperate for ass, but he didn’t know it had gotten this bad over the years. He tries to put on a straight face and clears his throat.

“That might explain a few things,” he quickly says, moving so Hiro can only see his back. “Perhaps you shouldn’t continue. You don’t want to get involved with that, do you?”

But, of course Hiro does. Hiro loves melodrama. He loves watching older men suffer, too, and this is prime hunting ground. Clearly, though, Hamada is not even close to being an upstanding citizen. He seduced his own professor, a man who, prior to this moment, Alistair assumed would never get laid again. Not after what Alistair did to him. Not after how badly he dragged Robert through the dirt. He’s still surprised the man managed to get a job.

“Come on,” he then says. He reaches over to run his hand through Hiro’s soft hair. “Forget about it, for now, all right? Let’s just eat. You must be starving.”

Hiro stares at his father, trying to decipher the bizarre tone in his voice. He doesn’t move when Alistair starts setting up the dining room table; he just continues to stay collapsed against the island, head in his arms. Eventually, dinner is finished, and Alistair calls for him and offers a glass of wine. Hiro sighs and decides that he’s at least a little hungry.

“There’s no way I’m not going to win,” Hiro elaborates, after a while. His father hasn’t said much of anything, and he’s already finished more than half his glass of wine. “Like, can you imagine that old man, trying to suck cock? I bet he’s awful at it. I almost pity that Hamada idiot.”

Alistair hides his expression behind his glass of wine. He’d never argue with Hiro over that, because it’d probably cause a lot of unnecessary heartache, but Robert’s skills in bed were, undeniably, quite pleasurable. It’s actually a little worrying that Hiro hasn’t succeeded over Robert. The old man is good, but he’s not ¬ _that_ good; he not as persuasive. Alistair knows Hiro has gotten men into bed quicker than should be morally imaginable.

“Gogo is actually giving me work, you know,” Hiro then complains. “She’s having me draft a report and everything. It’s incredibly abusive.” 

Alistair crooks a brow. “Gogo has always given you work,” he corrects. “You’ve just elected not to do it. I don’t know what’s stopping you, now.”

Hiro laughs to himself and picks at his vegetables. He’s has seen less and less of their cook over the past few months, but he doesn’t mind. Alistair is more than capable of preparing meals, and he seems to enjoy doing so. It’s been a while since they’ve sat down and had dinner together at the penthouse, though.

“I’m going to get him, you know,” Hiro assures his father, once he’s finished his meal. “It’s not even a question of _if—_ just _when_.”

“I see you’ve taken this on as a personal challenge,” Alistair replies, calmly.

“Of course I have!” Hiro is almost offended his father would doubt his commitment to the favor. “It’s the principle of the matter. I can’t just let some clown like Hamada humiliate me. _Us._ I’m going to get you Baymax, okay? I swear it.”

Alistair sips his wine and watches Hiro. He thinks, if the alcohol weren’t dulling his ability to care, he’d be incredibly disturbed by Hiro’s determination. Resentful, too. He knows firsthand that, when Hiro wants something, he gets it.

It’s still what scares Alistair the most about his son.

* * *

Tadashi strolls across campus with an obvious, proud smirk spread across his lips. He’s more than pleased with himself, at the moment. He and Robert just had some of the best sex they’ve had so far, and it’s more than a little exhilarating to walk toward his lab, knowing none of his fellow students even have the slightest clue what has him in such an upbeat mood.

It’s still messy, between them. Robert is quiet and hesitant to ask questions, and Tadashi is still on edge about having any of those questions asked. They’re both stubborn, and it makes talking about anything difficult. For now, Tadashi considers this has worked in his favor, because it certainly contributed to the hard, rough fucking they just had.

Tadashi is learning, more and more, how easily sex works to relieve stress. Unfortunately, it doesn’t alleviate the problems at bay. It’s especially disappointing to remember this when he’s headed right for what he fears will be another encounter with Hiro.

It’s been a week, now, since Hiro started his internship at SFIT, and Tadashi has seen him nearly every day. Gogo has had him on a tight leash the past few days, keeping him out of the robotics lab and, instead, situated in the library. Tadashi doesn’t have any lab work to do, today, so he’s hopeful he can just run in and out to grab the mathematics textbook he forgot.

Of course, that’s not the case. Tadashi spots a familiar tuft of black hair from clear across the corridor. The boy is leaning against his lab door, arms crossed as he gazes down at his phone. He’s actually _waiting_ , for him.

Tadashi’s mood drops. He slows down his pace as he approaches and doesn’t bother to meet Hiro’s gaze as he moves to unlock his lab.

“What, did you memorize my class schedule?” Tadashi greets. He pushes open the door and doesn’t have to turn around to know Hiro is following him inside. Again. “Where’s Gogo?”

Hiro shrugs. He _has_ memorized Tadashi’s schedule. It’s not like it was difficult. He’s paid close attention to what kind of classes Tadashi has and where they are in reference to the labs. Hiro knows, based on his messy scribbles in his notebook, that, today, Tadashi had a mathematics class in the morning and his robotics course with Callaghan in the afternoon.

“She left for the day,” Hiro acknowledges, but he’s a bit distracted by Tadashi’s tussled appearance. 

Tadashi’s forehead is shiny from sweat, and there’s that particular glow with which Hiro is all too familiar. He’s obviously just had sex.

“You probably don’t have to kill yourself, trying to pass Callaghan’s class,” Hiro says. “You could completely bomb it, and I’m sure he’d pass you, anyway.”

Tadashi smirks, smug. Hiro almost wants to berate him for being so unnecessarily crass about it, but he figures that’s exactly what Tadashi wants, so he continues to give the man a once-over, assessing him for any new marks.

“Well, did you have fun?” Hiro asks with raised brows. “Did he throw you across the desk and spank you with a ruler?”

Tadashi grabs his mathematics book and stuffs it in his bag. “Something like that,” he answers, cryptically. “I bet that married guy you see doesn’t fuck you as hard as Robert fucks me. He’s probably too afraid of hurting you.”

As has become Hiro’s habit, he practically saunters over to Tadashi. The idiot is talking big, but Hiro knows Robert Callaghan isn’t offering him what he really needs. Besides, Tadashi can’t even compare it to anything. He has no _idea_ what he’s missing. Callaghan is probably all overused technique and loving, timid words. Hiro almost blanches, just thinking about it.

“He loves hurting me,” Hiro explains with a flat expression; “and, I love _when_ he hurts me. Has your professor ever choked you, or tied you up? One time, this guy had his hands around my throat and wouldn’t let go until I came. I thought I was going to pass out. It was spectacular.”

“Gross,” Tadashi mutters. He readjusts his bag on his shoulder, then starts to make his way back toward the door. “I’ve got some homework to do, so…”

Hiro tilts his head. “Well, you know I’m only here until five, anyway,” he reminds him. “Still… We should go somewhere. Change of scenery. Maybe I’ll be less inclined to insult you if I’m not in an environment that only seems to encourage my sardonic teenage quips.”

He places a hand on Tadashi’s shoulder. It’s more friendly than sexual, but Hiro doesn’t forget to let the easy smirk run across his lips.

Tadashi hesitates. He really should settle in for the evening and start his assignments, but he can’t ignore that spark of disappointment that forms from knowing this is all he’ll see of Hiro, today. It’s unfamiliar—especially since Tadashi had convinced himself he _didn’t_ want to see the kid. He’s definitely not starting to enjoy Hiro’s company, because he’s annoying and distracting as all hell, but Tadashi is willing to admit it’s been entertaining to have banter back and forth with him.

Besides, it’s kind of fun to flirt with someone so young. Dangerous, yes, but also thrilling. Tadashi has always, clearly, had a thing for taboo relationships. He allows himself to grow hot under Hiro’s touch without guilt.

It’s not like anything is actually going to become of them, Tadashi thinks. They’re both too bottom.

“Would you shit yourself, if I took you back to my dorm?” Tadashi asks, faking boredom, as he avoids Hiro’s eyes. He knows the kid must has that unbearable smirk on his face. “Because, _maybe_ , if you don’t make a big deal about it, we could go there.”

Robert would hate it. Tadashi tries to swallow down the image of his disappointed look. But, it doesn’t matter how well Robert fucks him; he’s allowed to do whatever, whoever he wants.

“Unless,” Tadashi continues, halfway out the door; “your daddy would get mad at you for going home with some other guy."

Hiro has to process those words, carefully. There’s an inescapable innuendo there, but it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly to what Tadashi is referring. Hiro tries not to miss a beat as he follows Tadashi back outside.

“I’m free to do whatever I want,” he insists. “Just like you are.”

Whether Tadashi is satisfied with that answer is debatable, and they’re mostly silent on the way. At one point, Tadashi pulls his phone out and texts someone—probably Callaghan—and Hiro wonders, annoyed, whether the man is actually as good a fuck as Tadashi claims.

“So, tell me about how he fucked you,” Hiro urges. “Did he do you from behind? Bend you over the ask and teach you a nice, hard lesson? Do you think he has to take Viagra?”

How no one has taught Hiro any manners at all is unfathomable, to Tadashi. He narrows his eyes at the teen for about three seconds but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of anything further. What business is it of his to know whether or not Robert takes any medication? He doesn’t give a shit. At the end of the day, if Robert’s dick is hard, Tadashi isn’t going to complain.

He flashes his I.D. at the dorm’s front desk and writes down that he has a guest over, which feels a little bit like he’s being parented. He hates the way Hiro’s face looks as he scans the décor of the dormitories. He’s probably never seen anything so rundown before, and SFIT residences are considered top-of-the-line. Tadashi his own bathroom and a fridge, and his floor is fairly quiet. It’s pretty ideal.

They walk down the hall, and Tadashi knows Hiro is trying to get his attention. He also knows that ignoring him isn’t making him back away. Hiro, he decides, must be at least slightly interested in seeing where this goes. Tadashi wonders why his heart hasn’t sped up yet.

When he opens the door and walks in, Hiro practically barges his way through and takes a look around. The room is just as clean and organized as his lab. His bed is made, and his open closet is arranged by color. His walls are mostly bare, save the calendar and dry erase board. There’s a framed photo on his desk of an older woman with a calico cat. Probably his aunt.

“I hope it’s to your liking, your majesty,” Tadashi says. 

“I wasn’t always rich, you know,” he tells him. “In fact, when my mom was in between boyfriends, we lived in her car for, like, three months. It sucked.”

He continues to assess Tadashi’s room. It’s clear the guy doesn’t spend a lot of time here, which would explain the lack of personal touches. Really, there’s nothing to be too critical about, except that it’s painfully white and bland.

“I’m sure you know what it’s like to strike gold,” Hiro then says. “You said you were raised in the country. And, now look at you: In the big city with what I’m guessing is a full scholarship—and your professor’s dick up your ass. You’re not doing too bad.”

Tadashi’s stomach shouldn’t thrill from the minor, slight compliment. He realizes, right about now, that he’s probably in over his head. He doesn’t quite know what to say, to that. It’s true: He’s fucking his professor with a full scholarship. His robot got an offer from Krei Tech. In the scheme of things, he’s pretty well-off.

Somehow, when _Hiro_ says that, it means something more. He isn’t impressed by anything, so Tadashi makes sure to evaluate his features for a few extra seconds to make sure he isn’t lying. He honestly can’t tell.

“You’re something else,” he finally decides on mumbling. 

Hiro senses the shift between them. He wonders if Tadashi will be in San Fransokyo all summer, or if he has plans to go back home during those months. Callaghan would probably be more than happy to have his little student stay with him, rent free. Hiro tries not to gag at the thought of that pathetic old man, desperately vying for Tadashi’s attention.

“You really do care too much about me accepting this deal,” he reminds him with a sigh. He feels Hiro’s eyes watching his every move. “Is your dad promising you something, if you get me to do it? A car? Your own penthouse?”

“I don’t like seeing my father upset,” Hiro tells him; “and, I can sense how your rejection was very unsettling, to him. People just don’t say no to Alistair Krei. That, plus the whole ‘you’re incredibly stupid not to take the offer’ thing. There are many factors here, Tadashi.”

Tadashi takes a seat on his bed, and Hiro helps himself to plopping down beside him. He has enough decency not to let his shoes touch the sheets, but he’s not exactly all manners as he presses his forearm against the man’s thigh.

“I never did tell you myself that he was my father,” Hiro reminds him. “You found that out all by yourself. Read anything else interesting about me, when you were snooping? Or, was it your boyfriend who filled you in on my sordid past and gold digger of a mother?”

“There wasn’t—a lot,” Tadashi says, and it’s not a lie. He tries to remember to breathe normally. Hiro is far too close, and he can feel the teen’s body warmth creeping through his denim. Now that he’s thought about Hiro sexually, it’s been difficult to stop. It doesn’t help that they’re alone, in his dorm, with no one to check on them for at least several hours. “Mostly just tabloid shit.”

Hiro’s lips form into an easy, expectant smirk. He tilts his head and feigns intrigue. It’s obvious Hiro is planning something, right now. The question is whether Tadashi can bring himself to care.

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” Tadashi says, and he turns his head, only to see that Hiro is much closer, now.

Tadashi swallows. He refuses to be like those men who bow down at Hiro’s feet. If they do anything, Tadashi is going to be the one in charge. Someone has to teach this brat a lesson. Someone has to tell him that he can’t always get what he wants. 

“What are you expecting, from me?” he asks, almost to himself, as he inspects Hiro’s expression. “You think if you fuck me, I’ll give him Baymax? I’m not that easy.”

“I never said you were,” Hiro says. “All I’ve been suggesting, Tadashi, is that maybe you ought to think for yourself. You can deny it all you want, but you and I both know the only real reason you said no to my father is because someone instilled their amazingly ridiculous opinion of Krei Tech onto you.”

Hiro’s small, slender fingers find their way to Tadashi’s thigh. He can feel the heat beneath the denim, and it urges him to sit up and scoot closer until all he has to do is merely slide onto the older man’s lap. He catches Tadashi’s gaze—tests it for any flicker of hesitation—and it doesn’t surprise him to see how he’s struggling to breathe, struggling to stop this from going as far as Hiro is orchestrating.

“It’s the same reason you didn’t take me home that first night, at the expo, and _fuck me_ ,” he continues. By now, he’s succeeded in straddling Tadashi and shamelessly allowing himself one, two grinds. “That belief you’re thinking for yourself? It’s false.”

Tadashi’s brow falls, and he glares at Hiro, ready to defend himself. Maybe even ready to push Hiro off him. Hiro places a hand behind Tadashi’s neck, tickling the stray hairs there.

“I bet you won’t even admit you’ve thought about fucking me.” Hiro laughs and leans closer. That same hand, reveling in the last seconds of teasing ministrations, cascades down Tadashi’s body until he’s brushing between his thighs. “I’ve thought all about you, though. _Well_ —your cock, mostly. I bet it’s incredible, ’Dashi. Bet you’d love it if I took it down my throat and showed you how good I am, huh?”

Tadashi keeps trying to restart his brain, but it isn’t working. Hiro has him trapped, and they both know it. The more Hiro whines and teases, the more Tadashi leans back against the mattress on his elbows and lets it happen. 

Their lips brush, and Hiro has his head tilted like he’s absolutely ready to kiss. Tadashi feels their breath mingling in the minuscule amount of air between them. His fingers clench at the blanket, and his eyes screw shut. He shouldn’t, he can’t. He needs to push Hiro away—

—but, _fuck_ , that little mouth is so smart, and it needs to be stuffed with cock so Hiro can’t be such a brat. Tadashi imagines little tears forming in Hiro’s eyes as he fills his throat, staring up at the older man with a desperate plea to be gentle with him. 

Hiro’s hand firmly cups Tadashi’s crotch, and the teen’s mouth drops open like he’s surprised by how it feels. Tadashi takes the opportunity to put their lips together, knowing he shouldn’t, knowing this is wrong and awful.

But, he wants it.

Quickly, the two of them press closer, as if realizing that, _yes_ , this feels good, and they love it. Tadashi’s arms swing around Hiro’s torso, pulling him in as the kiss turns filthy and sloppy. Hiro’s tongue is devilish. Tadashi feels himself hot, short of breath, completely weakened. If someone told him Hiro were an incubus from hell, he’d believe it. 

His hands move to cup Hiro’s ass so they can grind a few more times. Hiro is so goddamn light. He weighs nothing.

“Fuck, Hiro,” Tadashi pants out. “Fuck. Are you sure—?”

“More than sure,” he whispers back.

This isn’t supposed to be intimate. Tadashi feels desperate, though, and he’s pushing Hiro’s small hips down against him, needing to feel more of that heat. Hiro’s hand reaches up to pull at Tadashi’s belt buckle, then at the zipper of his jeans. The groan that elicits from Tadashi pleases Hiro.

Tadashi’s eyes slip shut, and he’s about ready to lean in for another kiss when Hiro slides down the man’s body, dropping to his knees as his small hands continue to pull at the denim. Tadashi is more than helpful; he raises his hips, allowing Hiro pull them past his knees, along with his briefs.

His cock is fully hard, twitching when Hiro’s fingers brush between Tadashi’s thighs. He’s not leaking—not yet—but, Hiro intends to change that. Tadashi is, as Hiro predicted, impressive. He’s not as thick as Alistair, but the two men are easily comparable, otherwise. There’s a single, more prominent vein that runs down the shaft, and Hiro thinks about all the blood that must be pumping through him right now. He licks his lips and smirks up at Tadashi.

The man is panting, already looking as though he’s on the verge of _something_. Maybe he still intends to stop Hiro; but, God, does he look desperate. Did Callaghan suck his dick, earlier? Probably not. Probably just bent him over and fucked him. No foreplay.

His tongue darts out again, teasing the tip until he feels a bead of precome leaking out. He moans at the taste, never breaking eye contact with Tadashi.

“This is a good start,” Hiro teases, the smirk never leaving. “Doing something for yourself—all for you. Bet you’re gonna think back to this for a long time, ’Dashi.”

He spits at Tadashi’s dick, filthy and loud, before he starts to pump his hand down its length. Tadashi’s reaction is immediate: He throws his head back, biting back a loud groan and, maybe, muttering Hiro’s name. The younger boy giggles, then wets his mouth further before drawing the man’s hard, twitching cock into his mouth.

Tadashi feels dominant and submissive all at once. How does Hiro manage to do that? Tadashi is confused but so fucking turned on that he doesn’t care. Everything is much hotter than before, and he feels his body bending under Hiro’s touch. Of their own accord, Tadashi’s fingers find thick, soft black hair. 

He tugs, because he’s pretty sure Hiro will be into that. It forces another inch or so down Hiro’s throat, and Tadashi can feel the teen trying not to gag. He’s so fucking tiny. His mouth shouldn’t be able to stretch so wide—yet, Hiro is gunning for more. 

Tadashi makes another rough move and pushes up slightly into Hiro. The boy moans, and that’s almost enough to end this. But, Tadashi bites his lip and continues, rolling his hips again and again, until he’s sure Hiro’s mouth feels thoroughly used. 

He’s never had a blowjob like this before. This is art, and Hiro is a master. It’s obvious he practices frequently. For only the second person in his life to suck his cock, Tadashi thinks Hiro is a pretty good contender for being the best. 

“You’re so fucking good,” he breathes. He can’t believe his own words, but the heat of the moment forces them out. “Holy fuck.”

He arches his back, exposing his stomach, and he can tell Hiro is looking. It makes him feel like he’s the hottest movie star alive. Hiro rewards him by plunging back down on the man’s cock, going so deep that he feels the tip pressing painfully against the back of his throat. He has the entire thing inside his mouth, and his chest heaves from that brief, unsettled need to breathe. His nostrils flare, his eyes tear up, and he moans around the man’s cock as he stays positioned, allowing Tadashi to feel just how deep his cock is down his throat.

When he comes back up, a thick trail of saliva slides down the corner of his mouth. Tadashi’s face is flushed. He’s sweating. Hiro doesn’t hold back the laughter as his small fingers continue to stroke the shaft, keeping the man perfectly on edge.

“You wanna come?” Hiro teases. Tadashi makes a strangled noise for a response, and Hiro pushes the man’s legs further apart. “How does it feel, Tadashi? Knowing you’re gonna come down a little boy’s throat, huh?”

Tadashi’s brow furrows. He’s lost somewhere between arousal and disturbance. Hiro keeps up the pace with his hand before pushing down again, taking Tadashi’s cock and swirling his tongue around the underside of that thick vein. His precome tastes strangely bitter, less sweet than Alistair’s, but he doesn’t mind.

Hiro pops off and spits in his hand. Tadashi doesn’t even notice before Hiro’s mouth is back on him, thrusting his hard cock in and out of his mouth as his hand pushing past his legs. His willing mouth is sore, jaw stretched far too wide, but he shows no sign of hesitation as he laps at the width, pushing so far down that he has to stifle several gags.

Carefully, his finger brushes against Tadashi’s ass. The man groans and instinctively pulls away, pulling Hiro off him and staring down at him, confused.

There’s a flood of saliva dripping down his chin. Hiro’s small pink tongue laps at it, briefly, before his eyes spark with mischief.

“Did your professor come inside you?” he taunts, darkly. His finger, wet and thin, slips inside, but it’s not gentle. It’s rough, decidedly unpleasant. He crooks his finger, feels the man constrict around him, and laughs. “ _Hm_ , of course he didn’t. Too vanilla for that. Damn. You’re still loose from getting fucked, though, ’Dashi. He used you like the whore you are, huh?”

Tadashi is too shocked to even come up with a proper response. He seems to remember that Hiro specified he loved to bottom. This is not bottoming, but it’s not like Hiro intends to fuck him.

Hiro brushes a spot inside of him that makes his jaw drop open in shock, and a choked sound falls from his mouth. He touches it again and again, teasingly, and Tadashi can’t believe he’s being finger-fucked by a goddamn fourteen year-old.

_Christ._

“Hiro—wait,” he pleads, red-faced and heavy-lidded. He probably looks like such a slut, spread wide open and flushed. Hiro has a look in his eye that confirms it. “Hiro. Come on.”

Tadashi doesn’t want to come like this. He wants to come inside Hiro, to teach him a lesson, to make his married man jealous as fuck. But, he won’t have a choice in a few seconds, if Hiro keeps up his actions.

Despite how much he wants to fight it, Hiro moans around his dick, and Tadashi clutches, hard, at Hiro’s hair, feeling the burning intrusion so beautifully as he comes.

The best part of this, Hiro decides, is how much Tadashi has completely lost control over the situation. He didn’t want it like this; he didn’t want Hiro to win. He thought, in all his hilarious ignorance, that power dynamics were all black and white. That, with his cock stuffed deep inside Hiro’s mouth, he’d be in complete control, using Hiro on his own accord, coming down his throat and feeling a powerful dominance. Instead, the man is shaking, shouting, clenching so hard around Hiro’s finger. It’s so damn good.

Hiro allows a few spurts of come to coat his cheek before he catches the rest in his mouth. He lays his tongue flat, reveling in the new taste before he reaches out to stroke Tadashi’s cock through the rest of his orgasm.

He rips his finger out—just as careless as when he pushed inside—and stands to gaze at Tadashi’s trembling features before he leans against him.

Hiro is silent. Mouth clamped shut. But, of course, the smirk remains.

In the next moment, Tadashi still panting, Hiro presses their lips together. The older man, feeling limp against him, barely reacts until Hiro pushes his tongue inside, forcing his mouth open and, shamelessly, flooding the man’s come inside his own mouth.

“Thought you might want a taste,” he says, evenly. He licks his lips, savoring the taste that remains on his tongue. “Maybe next time, I’ll swallow.”

Tadashi jerks, trying his best to breathe as Hiro’s mouth leaves his. He’s not exactly afraid of swallowing come, but it’s still a little strange, and more than a little dirty, to be tasting his own.

None too gently, he grabs Hiro’s neck and pulls them together for another kiss until the taste between them is the same.

“You really are a filthy whore,” he says, throatily. It’s meant to come out as a joke, but Hiro beams. Of course he takes pride in that. Tadashi laughs. “God, you—you fucking _snowballed_ me.”

Hiro giggles back, and there’s a brief moment of silence as they catch their breaths, eyes locked.

Tadashi truly did not think any sexual activity with Hiro would go like this; and, frankly, he’s more than pleasantly surprised. He finds himself wanting more, despite his physical limitations. He wants to fuck Hiro, wants to get him off, wants to kiss him until their mouths are bruised. With Robert, he tires pretty quickly on most days, and it doesn’t bother him.

But, fuck. It bothers him, now, that they can’t keep going.

“When do you need to be home?” he asks, and it feels painfully like a relationship, so he quickly amends it. “I mean, do you have somewhere else you need to be? Your married guy—?”

Hiro scoffs, loudly. “What, do you think I have a curfew? I told you: I’m free to do as I please.”

He’s still moving away, though. Tadashi’s complexion starts to turn, so he reaches down to adjust his pants and belt.

“However,” Hiro continues, casually; “I believe you said something about homework. And, I like having dinner with my father, _so_.”

He turns to glance at Tadashi, all smiles, all mischief. His eyes light up when he catches the resentment that flashes across the older man. Hiro makes sure to lick his lips, savoring Tadashi’s taste, once more.

“Thanks for showing me your dorm.”

The second the door closes behind Hiro, Tadashi falls back on the bed.

He’s caught between a groan and a laugh as he wipes his hands down his face.

He is so screwed.

* * *

Hiro should’ve been home exactly an hour and thirty-three minutes ago.

Alistair glances over at the wall clock before grabbing his phone to confirm, yet again, that Hiro hasn’t texted him. His last received message is from half past four, and all Hiro had to offer was a whiny exclamation of how boring his day had been, how pointless.

That’s clearly changed.

He’s fighting the urge to storm over to SFIT, find Tadashi Hamada and wring his neck. What could possibly have Hiro so preoccupied that he’s failed to at least send one of his snarky texts? Alistair is just about to start setting the dining room table when he hears the front doors unlock.

And, there’s Hiro, strolling in as if nothing is wrong. As if nothing is different. Alistair blinks, then blinks again, because he doesn’t believe Hiro is this belligerent. And, yet, the teen plops down into his seat at the table and stares at the large bowl of ramen set in the center.

“Where were you?” Alistair scolds, feeling more fatherly than he intends. “It’s— _Christ_ , Hiro, you better be thankful I started dinner late.”

Hiro makes a small noise of acknowledgement, then pulls his lips into his mouth the way he does after blowjobs. Alistair realizes, then, where he’s been, and he doesn’t know if that stupid robot is worth the way he feels, right now.

Alistair grabs a bottle of Riesling from the kitchen. “You should have texted me,” he mumbles.

“I was too busy to text you,” Hiro tells him. He can’t help the roll of his eyes. Really, the dad act isn’t nearly as entertaining when Alistair is getting ready to fuck him. “You do it to me all the time, you know.”

He gives his father a pointed look, and they both know it should be fair game, but Hiro gets the distinct feeling the older man disagrees.

“His cock isn’t as big as yours,” he reveals, sounding bored. Alistair’s chest heaves, and Hiro watches as his father fills a glass of wine. He suspects, from the stains on the rim, it’s his second glass. “Yours is thicker, I mean. Tastes better, too.”

Hiro smirks and gazes at his father with expectation. Alistair had prepared himself to brush it off when Hiro would, inevitably, insult Hamada’s dick. Alistair is confident that some random college kid wouldn’t be able to match up. But, for some reason, Hiro looks far too satisfied, and it makes Alistair rustle with anger.

He knows he’s not the first cock that Hiro’s sucked, and he won’t be the last; but, _God_ ,he took pride in knowing that Hiro liked his best. Even as he speaks, there’s something coy in his tone, implying that he still enjoyed it beyond measure.

“I fingered him,” Hiro decides, next. His lips quirk as he remembers Tadashi’s surprised reaction, his offended yell of Hiro’s name and how he tightened around his finger. “I think he probably would’ve come from that alone. He’s hilarious.”

Alistair tightens his grip on his glass. “I never took you for the type to take that kind of charge,” he says, briskly, because baiting his son feels like his only defense. “We both know you’re really just a whiny little bottom, don’t we?”

“And, yet, there’s never been a man I couldn’t get,” he reminds him. “So, really, Daddy, who’s the one in control?”

His subsequent laugh is dark, personal. He’s not sharing a joke with Alistair so much as he’s mocking him, right now. Alistair isn’t sure if Hiro still thinks this is a game. Maybe he thinks this jealousy is all in good fun; but, the reality is, one day, Hiro is going to realize he doesn’t want to fuck his father anymore. And, that day is one that Alistair is severely dreading.

“He’s going to talk, to you,” Hiro assures. “I know he will. The only reason I couldn’t suck his dick on day one is because he’s too caught up in his stupid affair with his professor. I think I rattled him enough, tonight. Reminded him he ought to think for himself and not worry about what that decrepit old man thinks.”

Hiro stands and stops his father from taking a seat at the table. The ramen smells incredible, but, right now, Hiro is far more interested in running his hand down Alistair’s arm and pressing against him. Alistair is still wearing his suit, sans the jacket, and Hiro appreciates the way his rolled up shirt sleeves make him look all the more handsome.

“He might want to fuck me, first, though,” he breathes out. “I could see it in his eyes, tonight. He wants me, Daddy.”

Even when the boy pushes against him, Alistair feels a resolve leave him that he doesn’t think most men would willingly give up in front of someone like Hiro. Alistair, however, sets his wine down and pulls Hiro into him, brushing his hair away from his face.

Some days, he knows Hiro is only doing this because it’s taboo to fuck your stepfather. Other days, he remembers what Hiro has done to get them here. The sacrifices he’s made. And, more often than not, he remembers that Hiro still holds no remorse or regret for when he hired Yama to do his dirty work.

Alistair stares into Hiro’s eyes. It’s almost as if he isn’t human. He doesn’t think on the same level as everyone else. No compassion, no understanding. It’s as if he simply can’t comprehend them.

“I want you more,” Alistair promises, and his arms drape around Hiro’s miniscule waist. “You can’t trust being with anyone but me. You know that.”

Alistair is warm and solid, and it makes it easy to melt against him and giggle when the man’s fingers brush the hairs on his neck.

“It’s been a while since you’ve gotten jealous like this,” Hiro muses. He slides his fingers in between the buttons of Alistair’s shirt, teasing the skin there. “You have nothing to worry about, Daddy. I have this perfectly under control.”

Alistair is well aware—and, really, that’s the goddamn problem.

Completely forgetting their dinner, Alistair takes Hiro and shoves him against the wall. He needs to teach Hiro a lesson, to remind him of his place. He’s never had any kind of authority figure to chastise him for his cold, promiscuous behavior; _no_ , he’s learned everything from his mother, who taught him there’s nothing wrong with acting like a manipulative little whore.

Even if this all pans out and Alistair gets his way and secures Baymax, Hiro is corrupted. And, fuck, Alistair would feel devastated if, in this moment, he weren’t so lividly jealous.

He moves to attack Hiro’s neck with his mouth, teething over the sensitive skin and capturing Hiro’s wrists. He cuffs them against the wall and shoves a knee between Hiro’s legs, practically picking the boy up off the floor.

Alistair sucks at Hiro’s skin, hard. He wants to leave as many marks as possible, so Hamada knows that, no matter what Hiro says, he belongs to someone. He feels Hiro shiver under him.

“I need to fuck you,” he growls into Hiro’s ear. “I want to come inside you so that he _feels_ it.”

Hiro pants, loudly, hotly. Will Tadashi even want to fuck him without a condom? His professor doesn’t. Probably taught Tadashi all about safe sex. Hiro almost laughs at the thought and thinks back to the first time he and Alistair fucked. His father used a condom, then. They used condoms a handful of times until Hiro begged him otherwise.

Now, Hiro can’t imagine sex with a condom. It’d be so disappointing, he thinks. He loves when his father releases inside him, hot and thick. It’s the most satisfying feeling to feel it drip out of his stretched hole and onto his sore thighs. Hiro groans against his father and cranes his neck until he captures his mouth.

Alistair tastes like the sweet wine, and he’s eager. He slips his tongue inside Hiro’s small mouth, claiming him, and loses himself enough in the kiss that he lets go of the boy’s wrists. Hiro is quick to pull at Alistair’s belt. He can feel his father’s erection pressing against him. Hiro loves it, loves how easily his father can dissolve into sex.

“Please,” Hiro pants out, pulling Alistair’s cock free and stroking it between their bodies. “I want it, Daddy. I want you to fuck me.”

Alistair forces Hiro into the living room, where the corner, vinyl couch is waiting. He can spread Hiro’s body across the whole thing without issue and, when he does, his son stretches like a cat to show off his body. _Lithe, skinny, small_. Alistair never imagined he’d be into this, yet Hiro is irresistible. It’s fascinating.

He’s insistent on caging Hiro in before kissing him, hard and angrily. He grabs Hiro’s wrists again and holds them above the boy’s head with one hand. The other grazes along his neck to touch the bruises.

Hiro still has that satisfied smirk on his face. Alistair snarls, softly, and closes his fingers around that little neck. He doesn’t think Hiro sees it coming, judging by his expression. Alistair gives a dirty quirk of his lips as he presses against Hiro’s pulse points. Hiro’s legs kick out, and he pleads with wide eyes for Alistair to do _something_. He knows Hiro doesn’t want him to let go.

“You like that, baby?” he coos, allowing Hiro to breathe for about three seconds before he chokes him again. “Of course you do… You always love when Daddy chokes you.”

Face flushed, breath strained, Hiro nods and tries everything he can to relieve some of the pressure between his legs. Being at his father’s complete disposal—it’s thrilling, even now. Hiro isn’t scared of him. There remains the strangest level of trust between the two of them; there has to be, he realizes. They both have too much to lose, if they were ever to be discovered. Hiro is, and never has been, innocent in this ordeal. Hell, he’d probably face a longer prison sentence than Alistair.

“P-Please, Daddy,” he gargles out. “I want—your cock. Please.”

Hiro thin legs wrangle the larger man between them, rutting up against his father’s erection and moaning, obscenely.

“You fuck me so well, you know that?” he says. His eyes go dark with lust, and Alistair loosens his hold. “You’re so good, Daddy.”

Right now, the words don’t sound like desperation; they strike at Alistair’s heart like tiny, cruel jabs that Hiro knows will make him fold. He’s tired of the confidence when Hiro should be anything but. Alistair pulls his hand away, only to slap it across Hiro’s cheek.

Hiro cries out, arches his back, and his lips twist into a familiar, but all-too disturbing, maniacal smile. For a moment, they stare at each other.

“Daddy, _please_.”

Alistair roughly twists his son over and pulls his hips into the air. He yanks down on Hiro’s pants, getting them around his ankles, and bites his lip at the sight.

“You’re such a _slut_ ,” Alistair chides. He circles his thumb around Hiro’s hole and gives a huff of laughter under his breath. “Is there anything I can do to punish you that won’t have you begging to get fucked?”

He spreads Hiro’s ass and marvels at how smooth he is, how visibly _tight._ Alistair ruts his dick between Hiro’s thighs and groans.

“Who do you belong to, Hiro?” he asks as his hand circles, threateningly, around Hiro’s neck. “Don’t play games. I don’t want your attitude. I’ll beat it out of you, if I have to.”  
  
Hiro can feel the precome dripping from Alistair’s cock He’s certain, by the way Alistair juts against his ass, that he’s smearing it across his skin. This feels less like a game with each passing second. Alistair doesn’t sound amused like he normally does when they talk dirty. He sounds serious, angry. Hiro should very well be afraid; but, really, he’s not sure he’s ever been this hard before in his life.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he pleads out. He clenches around Alistair’s finger and wiggles his hips, desperate. He can feel his own cock dripping, now. He’s so painfully hard, and his father hasn’t touched his dick, at all. “I’m yours. All yours, Daddy. I—I promise.”

What would Tadashi think, if he saw Hiro, now? Would he be disgusted? Or, would it turn him on and make him want Hiro even more? He’s already called him a slut. He must have some inkling of the extent Hiro goes to in order to please men.

“Never gonna leave you, Daddy,” he then says. “I’m yours—forever. Want you to always fuck me, Daddy.”

Alistair wishes that were true. But, Hiro isn’t a monogamous soul, and they both know that. Alistair clicks his tongue at the apology, the begging. Hiro can’t get enough of being treated like he’s subhuman.

His son is only taking two fingers when Alistair becomes impatient and starts to scissor him open. He’s not gentle. His cock gets harder with each movement, as he watches Hiro pant and beg. The poor boy is leaking onto the couch, his small cock hard and twitching.

“Don’t act like a tight virgin in front of me,” he scolds, because Hiro is constricting around him. “You’ve been wanting this all day—haven’t you?”

Hiro pants, loudly, and tries to form a proper sentence. He’s used to being treated roughly but not carelessly. They’ve foregone lube before; he quite enjoys being stretched and used, and even practices to know how to take it. Tonight, Alistair spits on Hiro’s hole—and, then, for good measure, he does it again on his own cock. Hiro makes a desperate noise when he realizes that’s all he’s getting. 

“Daddy…”

Alistair only laughs before he grabs Hiro’s hips and sinks inside. The burn is distinct, nearly brutal, but Hiro still finds himself moaning and pushing into his father’s cock. Alistair is sure that Hiro will beg for him to go harder, faster no matter what pace he sets. Hiro is never satisfied.

When the boy reaches between his legs and attempts to stroke himself, Alistair snatches his hand away. Hiro whines, but Alistair holds strong and rams into him until he’s convinced there are bruises forming on his upper-thighs. Alistair wants Hiro to be left so bruised and sore that Tadashi knows what he has to live up to, to match. Hiro practically laughs as his hips meet his father’s relentless thrusts, and Alistair knows, then, his son is thinking the same.

“Come from my cock,” he whispers, harshly. He draws out fully for each thrust before he sheathes himself once more. “Can you do that, baby? Can you come from just getting fucked?”

It’s more than possible. Hiro has done it, time and time again. And, right now, Hiro is so close—just a whimpering, broken mess underneath his father.

For once, Alistair feels like Hiro is at his mercy. He grips Hiro’s hair and yanks backward until Hiro’s back is against his chest. From this angle, he can pull Hiro down onto his cock, and he can catch a reflection of them in the window.

“Look at you… You’re so close,” he hisses out, and Hiro is no longer forming coherent sentences.

His son is just _whimpering_. Practically slobbering as Alistair’s cock rubs directly against his prostrate. Hiro writhes and tries to break free from Alistair’s hold on his wrists so that he can clench onto something, anything. It’s not enough until the man holds him down, reaches for his neck again and forces him to come.

“ _Fuck_ , please—!”

His small cock twitches and releases onto the couch. Behind him, his father laughs, and Hiro knows he’s reveling in how he’s clenching around his cock. He repeats it, determined to milk his father dry when he’s finally coming inside him.

It’s even better than his own orgasm, he thinks. Alistair’s come is filling him, overflowing his tight hole and spilling across his thighs. Nothing else compares. Somewhere, deep down, he knows this. His father is the only one who treats him with such mindless passion. One minute, it’s violent fucking; the next, tender kisses down his neck.

Just knowing Alistair is determined to keep him has Hiro remaining insatiable.

Still shaking, Hiro tries to hold himself up, but he can’t. He goes limp, falling onto his stomach and panting like a wild animal. Alistair pulls out and loves the way his own come coats Hiro’s tight little hole. His ass looks raw and well-fucked. He gently rolls Hiro over and picks him up, bridal-style.

“You’re so good, Hiro,” he praises. Hiro curls his fingers against his father’s chest. “My perfect little boy.”

Alistair carries Hiro up the stairs and into the bedroom, where he places him on the well-made bed. He wanders into the adjoining bathroom to find a rag and, when it’s wet, comes back to start wiping away the mess.

“I’m sleepy,” Hiro whispers, and there’s a smirk on his face; mischievous, despite its weariness. He immediately cushions his head on his father’s chest when the man settles beside him. 

After several minutes of silence, Alistair asks: “Does he know?”

Hiro makes a weak noise and pushes himself closer. His face still stings from the earlier slap. His muscles are more than sore and, frankly, he’s amazed he’s managed to catch his breath. He vaguely wonders if he’s bleeding.

“No,” Hiro answers, steadily. Alistair is comforted by that. “No, of course not.”

He knows better. He’d delight in the horrified faces of those who discovered their relationship, but he’d never be that foolish. Krei Tech would crumble. Alistair would be arrested. Hiro, with no living relatives, would be sent off to some foster system. Hiro would lose everything. There’s no fortune to be had if Krei Tech were to go bankrupt.

“He thinks I’m fucking some married guy,” he then clarifies. Alistair reaches down and strokes at his face, a caring, gentle gesture that completely contrasts to the previous treatment. “I mean, it’s not completely untrue.”

Hiro yawns and sprawls out more, leaning over his father’s chest and looking down at him with a crooked brow.

“Did you ever fuck me and my mom on the same day?” he wonders, abruptly. “That’s kind of gross, if you did. I at least hope you fucked me, first.”

Hiro’s question makes Alistair laugh, just from the sheer child-like gleam in his eyes. He looks innocent, almost.

“I stopped anything with her when you and I—started,” he says. “She never cared. I doubt I was her only option.”

And, even if he had Hiro, that still hurts—to know he was never good enough, for Maemi, even with his wealth, his name, his legacy. He was never enough when it came, to her, and maybe that’s what pushed him over the edge with Hiro. 

“Do you ever think about how fucked up it was that my mom never said anything, to us?” Hiro then asks, and his expression changes. “We didn’t hide it, and she just—didn’t care.”

Most things about Maemi were fucked up, Alistair thinks. She was vindictive and cruel, and she hid it behind her beautiful features and a free-spirited personality. Alistair has always credited himself for being shrewd, but he knows, now, that Maemi had still managed to blind him. It may have even surprised Maemi, considering she never had to use sex to get what she wanted, from him. He simply gravitated toward her because she was offering everything he needed: A wife who wasn’t emotionally invested, someone who would actively seek out their own life while Alistair continued with his own. She spent his money, and she spent it without regard, but it was a small price to pay for the tabloids to stop questioning why he wasn’t wed.

It had been Hiro who made the marriage difficult. Even before his attempts to seduce his stepfather, Alistair recognized how little Maemi cared about her son. He was simply too well-adjusted to even the most intense changes. Maemi never even congratulated him when he graduated high school at the mere age of thirteen. She didn’t attend his graduation and never encouraged college; and, when Alistair thinks back at all of it, he considers what prompted Hiro’s decision to seduce him, was when Alistair wrote him out a graduation card and left it on his bureau.

It may have very well been the only selfless gesture a man had ever offered him.

Weeks later, Hiro was pressing against him in Alistair’s study, whispering all sorts of suggestions about the penthouse pool and being alone—and, _Christ_ , Maemi’s neglect is still so painfully tragic. She never asked about Alistair’s love bites. She never questioned why Alistair would take Hiro on outings, alone. She simply dressed in her name-brand clothing, sipped cocktails and asked for his credit card numbers.

Alistair readjusts himself on the bed and pulls the sheets over their bodies. It’s been a while since they’ve stayed like this, after sex. It’s nice. He likes how Hiro nuzzles at his neck, and Hiro likes how Alistair’s hand runs up and down his back, how he brushes stray hairs from his face.

“You know I wish I could change how she treated you,” Alistair offers, somberly.

Hiro hums, thoughtful. “It doesn’t matter.”

They fall back into silence, and Hiro’s mind wanders for a bit. He wonders what Tadashi is doing, right now. Did he call up Robert for another quick fuck? Is he confessing what Hiro did, to him, this afternoon? Hiro wants to laugh, thinking about how much that would piss off the old man.

“So, what’s Robert Callaghan’s beef with you?” Hiro eventually asks. “Is he really just a jealous fuck, bitter that he’s stuck teaching college kids? Or, does he know some deep, dark business secret of yours?”

Alistair tries to keep his breathing steady. He knew this conversation would happen; he just hoped it wouldn’t happen so soon. Telling Hiro the truth is not an option. At least, not right now. He can’t anticipate how Hiro will react, whether the boy will start harassing Robert just out of pure amusement. It could ruin everything.

“That’s better left for another time," he decides, feeling as though his heart is about to fail. For some reason, it’s so nerve-wracking to actually think about Hiro knowing the truth. “You shouldn’t speak to Callaghan, though. He probably doesn’t trust you, and he’ll try to undermine us.”  
  
Hiro scoffs, loudly. “I don’t want to talk to that old man, anyway,” he says. “What if he tried to fuck me?”

He scrunches up his face in disgust. He thinks himself most capable of getting any man in bed, and Robert Callaghan _would_ be quite the accomplishment. Hiro could sell his story to a tabloid, gain millions just to secure his own private fortune. The guy isn’t unattractive; Hiro supposes he’s handsome, for his age, but it’s not something he’d ever actively seek out. In fact, picturing the old man banging Tadashi erupts a sort of unfamiliar feeling within Hiro. 

“Don’t let him know about what you’re doing,” Alistair warns.

Hiro laughs. “Our plan is top secret,” he assures. He kisses his father—quick and easy—before rolling fully on top of him. “I told Hamada you didn’t even know my internship was taking place at SFIT, right now.”

Tadashi doesn’t ask much about what it’s like to be Alistair Krei’s son. It’s sort of insulting. Or, maybe, Tadashi doesn’t ask because he doesn’t have any point of reference. His own father clearly isn’t in the picture anymore.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go tomorrow,” he then muses. “I’ll text Gogo; tell her I’m not in the mood. I like the idea of keeping Tadashi waiting, you know? On his toes.”

The businessman in Alistair isn’t sure if that’s the best plan, considering Tadashi doesn’t seem like one to wait around. But, the increasingly far more dominant part of him, the one that yearns to keep Hiro all to himself, away from the world, is delighted by his son’s words.

“If you insist,” he says, easily. “Maybe you could come to the office with me.”

Hiro giggles, and Alistair delights in the way his son’s face transforms into a smirk.


	4. Chapter 4

Tadashi wrings his fingers together and stares at his phone, even though he doesn’t have the number from which he wants to hear. He knows he should be paying attention, right now, because Robert is spending a lot of money for this dinner, and it’s rude to be so distracted.

But, he doesn’t know what he wants to eat, and it’s stressful. Everything about today has been stressful, actually; and, somehow, the worst part about it has been Hiro not showing up to his internship.

It hurts. It feels _personal_.

Does Hiro not want anything to do with him, now? Was Tadashi just some kind of joke, a challenge? Is he laughing at Tadashi’s expense, alongside his married man, who probably finds Tadashi even more pathetic than Hiro does?

The knot in Tadashi’s stomach tightens. 

“I have no idea what to get,” he says, trying to be interactive with Robert. He flips the menu over. “Are you sure this is okay? It looks expensive.”

Robert has been more than patient with Tadashi, considering the younger man’s mind is a million miles away. Earlier, at the lab, he kept looking over his shoulder while they were talking, peering out into hall. He ignored about a dozen of Robert’s casual questions. And, now, he’s gazing at his phone, despite the fact the damn thing hasn’t gone off once.

“Just get the scallopini,” Robert suggests, somewhat curt. He thinks he deserves the slip up. “And, it’s fine, Tadashi. I promise. I wouldn’t have offered to take you here, if it wasn’t.”

Tadashi flushes and bites his lip, looking away. He shouldn’t be so anxious to see anyone, much less a fourteen year-old boy.

He came in Hiro’s mouth once, and he can’t stop thinking about it.

There’s just something so addicting about the way Hiro holds himself. He’s mysterious, proud. He’s unapologetic about his sexuality, and he knows when he wants something. Tadashi both envies and respects that. When he was Hiro’s age, he was too scared to even _talk_ to other boys. Hiro has probably had more dick than Tadashi ever will in his entire lifetime.

Tadashi feels like Hiro has put a spell on him. He knows Robert has never seen him this way; Tadashi, for the most part, has never been easily distracted, yet Hiro has managed to keep him from focusing on anything, at all—including a nice, quiet evening with his professor.

Of course, Robert knows why. He didn’t see Hiro’s or Gogo’s names on the lab’s sign-in sheet today, but he hasn’t had the courage to ask Tadashi about it, either. Something clearly happened. The fact Tadashi won’t divulge tells Robert everything he needs to know. 

“Are you stressed about finals?” Robert decides to ask. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You’ll make the dean’s list again.”

Tadashi still has that faraway look on his face, and Robert has to repeat his name to get his attention. The younger man jolts, then stares, and the shame washes over his features.

“Shit,” he curses. “I’m really sorry, Robert. I’m here, now. I swear. Just, um—tell me something about how classes are going, for you?"

Robert frowns. “They’re fine,” he replies. “Same curriculum every semester.”

Tadashi looks even more guilty, now. They’re quiet until the waiter comes over to deliver the bottle of wine Robert requested—a Rosatello red wine—and, Robert orders the food, for them. 

“It’s really sweet,” Tadashi comments. He swirls his glass around a little too energetically. “I like it.”

“It’ll go well with the dish,” Robert says. If he were feeling more humorous, he’d lightly tease Tadashi for his lack of fine dining etiquette. Instead, he feels as though his chest is closing in on itself, and he wishes everything about this evening felt normal. “Have you decided what you’re going to do, once the semester is over?” he then asks.

It’s intentionally harsh, he realizes. Tadashi has been stressing about having to leave San Fransokyo ever since he came back from winter holiday. He hated being away, he said. He couldn’t get any work done down in the country. He had neither the supplies, nor ambition. It was too easy to get caught up in helping his aunt with the farm.

Reminding Tadashi that he may only have a month left in the city is somehow critical, to Robert. He doesn’t enjoy acting like a betrayed, jealous boyfriend; he should be above it. But, just the thought of Alistair’s son throwing himself at Tadashi, again and again, is sickening. He clearly has ulterior motives, and Tadashi is charmed by the kid. _The kid._ Even if he had the courage to ask Tadashi what transpired between the two of them, Robert isn’t sure he could stomach it.

“Not yet,” Tadashi replies. “It’s kind of overwhelming to think about.”

“You can always get a job and rent a room downtown,” Robert suggests. “Plenty of families open up their spare rooms to college kids, over the summer.”

Tadashi glances down. “I’ve considered it,” he admits. “But, budgeting my scholarship money is difficult. I guess I could start looking at part-time jobs.”

Or, he could accept Alistair Krei’s offer, he thinks; but, he’s not about to bring that up at the dinner table. This conversation is strained enough. But, Tadashi has been thinking about it, more and more. Even if he refused to sell Baymax, he could probably get some sort of entry level job with Krei Tech. He figures Hiro would put in a good word—after, of course, he mocked him a little bit.

When the waiter comes with their food, Tadashi realizes how hungry he really is, and sets his cloth napkin over his lap. There is a little light at the end of the tunnel when Robert smiles, fondly, watching him enjoy the meal.

“I could stay with you,” Tadashi eventually teases in a sing-song voice, trying to lighten the mood. "Imagine me, waiting for you every night at your loft. You’d love it."

Robert _would_ love it. He’d cherish it. And, more than once, he’s allowed himself this fantasy. More than once, he’s found himself halfway through suggesting it. They’d spend the entire summer together, and Robert would show Tadashi all there was to see in San Fransokyo. They’d wake up late, have brunch, read at the park, explore the city. Robert would spoil him. Tadashi would get to stay. Everything would be so _ideal._

Robert cuts at his steak. “I probably won’t be staying in the city this summer,” he tells him. “I promised Abigail I’d spend the summer with her, and I already have an old colleague who is subletting my apartment during that time.”

It’s only half-true. He does intend to visit his daughter in New York City for a few weeks. If he wanted, he could stay on the east coast for the entire duration of the season. He supposes, if things were different, he could bring Tadashi. Robert remembers the younger man mentioning how much he’d love to visit New England, one day. They could take the train to Boston and visit all the historical sites; maybe even explore some of the wine trails just outside the city.

“Sometimes, it’s good to get away,” he then offers before taking a sip of his wine. “What’s that old saying? Absence makes the heart grow fonder. At least you’d be more eager to get back to San Fransokyo and SFIT.”

Tadashi thinks the old saying is bullshit. During winter break, he was just anxious and sad. Three months of that would feel devastating.

It’s deflating, the way the conversation falls again. Robert had clearly been trying up until this point; and, now, he’s waiting for Tadashi to pick up the slack. That, or explain why he’s been distant. 

“I’m glad you’ll be seeing your daughter,” he says. “I guess my aunt probably misses me.”

He imagines Aunt Cass finding out about his fling with Robert and knows she would only be concerned. She never had an issue with him being gay, and an older man would just make her wary.

He can’t imagine how she’d react to Hiro, though. Cass has always had a weak spot for cute, small things—and, _hell_ , Hiro fits the bill. She’d probably coo and dote upon him, until she realized the truth. Then, she’d be oddly skeptical of her nephew’s life choices.

“It’ll be good to see her,” Robert offers. “Maybe, next year, you can invite her up for a few weeks. I’m sure she’d love to see San Fransokyo outside of SFIT.”

Tadashi laughs. “Yeah. God, it’s so boring on the farm, Robert!” He shakes his head and pushes some of the zucchini around with his fork. “What am I going to do without you around? We could try sexting, or something. We’ve never done that before.”

Robert tightens his grip on his fork. He doesn’t want to think about that kind of stuff, right now. He’s still trying to figure out how this night is going to end, whether Tadashi will insist on coming back to his place and whether Robert will have the emotional energy to agree to it. Christ, who knows if this relationship with Tadashi will continue next year, anyway? Maybe it’s better they let things go, now. Robert’s already put a huge dent in this whole affair by wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“I didn’t see Hiro today,” Robert finally says. His voice is flat but calm, and he purposely avoids looking up to see Tadashi’s expression. “I guess that’s a good thing. You probably got actual work done. If he’s still a problem, you can always report him. Another donation from Krei Tech isn’t going to mean much of anything if that kid is disrupting a student’s education.”

That’s a lie, of course. Hiro could blow up an entire building, and he’d still be allowed to do as he pleases around campus, so long as his father wrote another check. If Robert had the strength, he’d call up Alistair and demand that his spoiled, promiscuous brat of a son leave Tadashi alone, once and for all. Unfortunately, Robert knows he’s too much of a coward to even attempt a conversation with that man.

Does Alistair even know what his son is up to, most of the time? Does he know Hiro sleeps with married men and flirts his way through every encounter with the same-sex?

Robert’s stomach twists. He’s still uncomfortable with the notion Alistair might very well be aware of Hiro’s behavior. All too aware.

“He’s—really not that bad,” Tadashi replies. He taps Robert’s foot with his own under the table. “I just ignore him, most of the time. You don’t need to worry about him, or his father. Hiro is just a spoiled kid, that’s all.”

Guiltily, Tadashi tries to remain calm. He can’t turn into a blushing, stuttering mess every time Hiro is mentioned. He’s not a schoolboy with a crush; he had one blowjob. _That’s it._ It meant nothing. 

Robert considers dropping the subject all together until he finishes his glass of wine. 

“What has he told you about his stepfather?” he asks, placing down the empty glass and, finally, resuming eye contact.

“He doesn’t say much,” he admits; “beyond bragging about how rich they are, I guess. He talks a lot about how stupid I am for saying no to the deal."

Robert nods, thoughtfully. “Has he even mentioned his mother, to you?”

Tadashi gazes back at him, surprised by the stark questions. Robert doesn’t have anything to lose here, he figures. It’s not as though Tadashi was ever his to claim. But, of all the boys in the San Fransokyo, Tadashi just had to grow infatuated with Hiro Takachiho-Krei. It’s as though someone is playing a joke on him, Robert thinks. Life is cruel, but this just seems excessive.

“I mean, a bit,” Tadashi hesitates. “I don’t think they got along.”

“But, he and Alistair do?” Robert muses. Tadashi doesn’t have a response to that. “It can’t possibly be a conventional relationship. After all, what kind of father allows his son to run around, hunting married men?”

Tadashi has to nod, at that, but he remains quiet. He’d be surprised if there were no sexual abuse in Hiro’s past. Sad, he thinks, but explanatory. It bothers Tadashi how Robert so blatantly hates Krei and Hiro. He knows there’s bad blood and doesn’t really have a right to know about it, but he still feels oddly defensive of Hiro.

The rest of the dinner is mostly silent. Tadashi fusses, as usual, about at least tipping, but Robert declines. Outside the restaurant, Robert can feel the unease from Tadashi. It’s unclear whether the younger man is coming home with him. He looks lost and, for a moment, Robert feels incredibly guilty for being so harsh on him. But, he’s only trying to protect him. 

“Call me, tomorrow,” he says. Tadashi doesn’t have class with him for the next two days. “If you need help studying for finals, I’m here.”

Tadashi looks disappointed. It’s for the best, Robert thinks. They need some distance, right now. At least, Robert does.

“Good night, Tadashi,” he says, kissing the man on his forehead before turning down the opposite side of the street.

Tadashi doesn’t know what to say—so much so that, by the time he thinks of something, Robert is already down the street. He just got rejected. Again.

His self-worth in the gutter, Tadashi makes his way back to campus with a pout on his face. He’s not even flirty when the volunteer at the dorm’s front desk asks him to smile. He feels so off. Is there something wrong with him? Is he not attractive enough? Maybe Robert is losing interest in him. And, it’s not as if Hiro is anything real, so it’s possible Tadashi has fucked all this up for nothing, and he’ll end up with no one but shame.

He shuts his door and takes a shaky sigh as he slides out of his shoes. It’s not often he gets upset. Most people would probably describe him as cheery. But, right now, Tadashi feels worthless and pathetic. 

Tadashi buries his face into his pillow, even though he can’t remember falling to the bed. He feels a few rare tears leak out of his eyes before he actually starts to cry, because it’s not fair. It’s not fair that the poor little gay kid from the prairie can’t even hold down one person.

He throws his phone to the foot of his bed before falling asleep in his clothes.

* * *

Gogo stacks another three manila folders onto her already large pile of paperwork, then grabs her briefcase to leave. It’s already well past five o’clock. She should’ve been out of the office forty-five minutes ago, but she’s been backlogged on her work, ever since she’s been stuck babysitting Hiro at SFIT in the mornings. She’s starting to miss when he wasn’t interested in his internship. At the very least, she knew what to expect. Now, she has to take time out of her already busy schedule to make sure the kid is signed into the campus’s lab and that he actually has a task assigned.

Thankfully, he was absent yesterday, which has given Gogo more than enough time to catch up on her neglected work. She still had to chaperone him this morning, but Hiro was oddly quiet and made no attempts to distract her from leaving. She managed to get back to Krei Tech before noon.

The whole thing still doesn’t sit right, with her. She knows Hiro has been spending time with Tadashi Hamada (mostly because he doesn’t shut up about how stupid the poor college student is), and Alistair has been dodging her calls and texts. 

Alistair Krei is up to something—and, he’s dragged his son into it, too.

She wants to feel bad for Hiro. Only, she knows he’s more than capable of sinister misdeeds, just like his stepfather.

Alistair’s secretary has already left for the day when Gogo walks past her desk and heads for the man’s office. She knocks a few times but doesn’t wait for an answer before she pushes the doors open.

At his desk, Alistair has his cell phone in his hands, and the look he gives Gogo tells the woman he was probably expecting the cleaning crew.

“Good, you’re still here,” she remarks. She throws the manila folders on his desk. “You need to sign off on about half of those. Mostly just proposals.”

Alistair sets down his phone. “I was only going to stay for about fifteen more minutes,” he tells her. “It’s getting dark, Miss Tomago. You should have gone home hours ago.”

She doesn’t look embarrassed, or insulted. Gogo is a good worker. She’s hard, fast, strong. It’s everything he could have asked for in his leading project manager. But, _goddamn,_ if she isn’t pushy…

“Why are these getting, to me, so late in the day?” he wonders, picking up one of the folders and leafing through the documents. 

“Why do you think?” she asks. “Your son’s internship has done a remarkable job putting my work on the back burner.”

He isn’t surprised by the remark. He’s been expecting the confrontation. Gogo has never been one for subtly, and she rarely backs down.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls and texts,” she continues. “I know you’re up to something with that Hamada student. I saw Hiro talking, to him, at the expo.”

Alistair almost wants to tell her not to remind him, because he still hates that Hiro ever spoke to Tadashi Hamada on his own accord. He hates the thought of Hiro sauntering up to him, asking all about Baymax while tipsy and, _of course_ , overtly flirtatious.

He hates knowing that, right now, Hiro is probably with Tadashi. This morning, Alistair tried—nearly _begged_ —his son not to go to SFIT. Yesterday had seemed like such a serene escape from the mess that’s been created through this whole ordeal. Alistair actually went into the office late, just so he could spend the morning and early afternoon with Hiro. They had brunch and walked around the city before Alistair dropped him back off at the penthouse and went in for half a day. When he arrived back home, Hiro was napping in the bedroom, and it was such a peaceful reminder that he hadn’t spent the day shoving Hamada’s cock in his mouth.

Are they having sex, right now? Is Hiro whispering all sorts of filthy words into Tadashi’s ear? Is he making promises of a large fortune from Krei Tech as he slides his hands down Tadashi’s body and ruts against him?

Tadashi Hamada should never know what Hiro sounds like in bed. He shouldn’t know what that extraordinary little body is capable of doing, of _taking_. Alistair feels his heart rate begin to quicken as he loses himself in the jealousy, the fear.

Gogo snaps him back into reality when she speaks again, impatient.

“Do you really think your son is going to get you a signed contract?”

Oh, how he wants to say no. He almost wishes Gogo would say it’s impossible, just so Alistair could feel better, in this moment. But, he saw—heard—the determination within Hiro, and the boy has no intention of leaving Tadashi alone until he seals the deal.

“My son knows exactly what he’s supposed to be doing,” he says. It doesn’t really confirm anything. “Hamada is weak. A freshman. With enough persuasion, I can get him to do anything I want.”

Gogo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Does that include answering to the flirtations of your son?”

Alistair stares back at her, and it’s less challenging than she expected, but she’s willing to admit it still makes her uneasy. She’s never trusted Alistair Krei—not in the way she should trust a boss. He’s a ruthless businessman, and she doubts even his personal life would ever take precedence over his company. He barely mourned for his wife and, while Gogo has various thoughts on that blatant farce of a marriage, she could at least recognize Maemi’s death left Alistair shaken. But, after two days out of the office, he came back, refusing to talk about it and getting right back to business as usual.

Gogo supposes that kind of attitude is what has made him so successful.

But, there’s a difference between being cutthroat and being absolutely goddamn limitless. Gogo isn’t even sure she wants to know what Alistair has Hiro doing.

“You saw a student in hipster cardigans and tight pants and read him as gay,” she laughs out. “So, now, you’re having your son persuade him into a contract. No offense to Hiro, but I think Hamada can do better.”

Alistair frowns. Hamada would be so lucky as to spend a night with his son. Hiro would be the best fuck that pathetic, farm town hick would ever get, and they’ve spoiled him enough by even letting Hiro’s lips on his cock.

“Miss Tomago,” Alistair says; “it’s a little unbecoming of you to assume my son would be so provocative.”

Gogo scoffs. Loudly. “Please, Krei,” she says. “He’s a flirt. He got it from his mother. You’re forgetting how much time I’ve spent with that kid.”

More than she’d like, admittedly. She doesn’t know what Honey finds so charming about Hiro. Gogo has seen them ramble on together as though they’ve known each other for years. They talk about weird telenovelas, about baked goods, about fashion. Then again, Honey Lemon finds just about everything and everyone cute. It’s one of her many charms.

“So,” she begins again, this time more serious; “does this mean you’re admitting to trying to get Hamada to sign that contract? If you want my advice—which, you probably don’t—I don’t think he’s going to budge. I get the impression he’s too focused on school to even consider signing away one of his inventions. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen a student attend an expo just for connections.”

And, whether Alistair wants to admit it, or not, Tadashi Hamada has certainly made those connections. He’s hanging around Alistair’s son at least three days a week. The poor boy might be at Hiro’s patronizing mercy, but at least he can say he’s become an acquaintance of Hiro Takachiho-Krei. Gogo has never known the kid to have a single friend.

“He’ll sign it,” Alistair assures her. “No college student would be able to deny those zeroes for very long.”

Alistair stands and sighs, hands on his hips as he regards his pile of work to be done. Gogo doesn’t seem like she wants to be dismissed; rather, she seems a little too intrigued. A little too curious.

“If anyone can get it done, Hiro can,” he tells her. Gogo’s expression changes, barely, and Alistair can’t tell what emotion it conveys. “Besides, it’s not like he’s not getting his work done. I’m sure he’s doing more for this internship than he ever has before.

Gogo stares. It’s incredibly off-putting how he’s selling his son this short, all for the sake of a robot, but she wonders, curiously, if there’s more at work, here.

A lot has been unspoken between the two of them. Even his marriage to Maemi made sense, to Gogo, because she understood. Sometimes, she thinks it may have been why she was chosen for the position over far more experienced candidates. He saw his likeness in her. He felt safer with someone like her in a very trusted position. 

“Come on, Krei,” she drones. She doesn’t hide her disappointment. “Are you really using Hamada’s sexuality to exploit him? He’s just a kid. He’s from the boonies. He doesn’t know any better. And, Hiro…”

_Well, Hiro…_

He’s complicated. Troubled. Gogo doubts he has any real grip on what he wants. He’s still imitating his mother. Maemi flirted with just about every high-positioned male at Krei Tech—in front of Gogo, in front of Alistair. She had no regard for boundaries, for morals. Hiro clearly doesn’t, either.

“I’m sure Hiro just wants your approval,” she says, carefully. “You’re all he’s got. He’s pretty lonely, you know.”

Gogo’s tone turns soft, and Alistair isn’t sure she realizes that. She probably already knows the truth, and he doesn’t have to tell her. 

“He has my approval,” Alistair assures her. He moves to stand by the window. The sun is setting over a bustling city, and he wonders if Hiro is home, by now. “He knows that. I’ve told him that.”

He’s fucked it into Hiro, too. Said he’s proud of Hiro in multiple situations, in many different ways.

“It’s not that Hamada is gay,” Alistair says. “It’s that he’s weak. He’s already fucking a professor, actually. Hiro tells me too much.”

Gogo takes the statement into consideration. He’s probably talking about Robert Callaghan. The man has been sponsoring Tadashi’s project, and Gogo is pretty sure she saw Robert’s name on the fee for the expo’s admission price. Briefly, she wonders if anyone is goddamn straight anymore.

“Well, forgive me for thinking you might have a soft spot for your fellow man,” she states, and there’s no mistaking, now, what she knows about Alistair. “If he does sign that contract, don’t expect him to stay quiet about your misdeeds, though. Not everyone is as tight-lipped as I am, you know.”

Alistair turns back to face her. There’s fearful pang in his chest when he hears her speak those words. He doesn’t let it show, of course, but the fear resides within, haunting him every second that he considers his past, Robert, Maemi—and, most especially, Hiro. His successes have, from the very beginning, been a collection of lies. He’s not where he’s at, right now, for being honest, for being _kind_. Even if he could rewrite the past, there’s not much he’d change. Even his affair with Robert Callaghan had its purpose.

Besides, he refuses to be like that washed-up homosexual. Robert allowed his career to decimate by coming out; he lost job opportunities at prestigious companies and, instead, ended up wasting his craft by teaching it to bored students.

Gogo and Alistair break their gaze when her phone vibrates. She pulls it out from her jacket to see the message is from Honey Lemon. She’s been waiting downstairs for Gogo to finish up.

“Call the school and get them to sign off on Hiro’s access to the labs, will you?” she says with a heavy sigh. “With all due respect, I’m really not interested in being involved in your business schemes.”

He briefly catches that she’s saying something insubordinate; but, when she glances at her phone again, he only wants to watch the anticipation on her face grow. She wasn’t entirely off the mark when she offered him the benefit of the doubt, just moments ago. There’s still a sentimentality that he tries so hard to bury for people like him, people like Hiro. Seeing Gogo approach Honey in the morning, as the younger girl blushes and tucks hair behind her ear, is one of the only things that proves, to Alistair, that Krei Tech isn’t like his strongest competitors.

One step at a time, he thinks; and, maybe, after enough time and enough employees, Alistair won’t feel as afraid anymore.

“Tell her I said hello,” Alistair murmurs; “and, I don’t want either of you late, tomorrow morning.”

Gogo snaps her phone shut. “Duly noted,” she replies. “Have a good night, Krei.”

* * *

After skipping his internship for a day, Hiro wasn’t that surprised when Alistair tried to convince him to stay home again. What was strange, though, was the hint of desperation Hiro caught in his father’s voice. He didn’t want Hiro to go to SFIT today. That much was clear. If Hiro had the time, he would’ve berated Alistair for being pathetic, clingy; but, instead, he brushed against his father’s side, stretched on his tip-toes and kissed him, hard and thorough.

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” he had assured. “He’s gonna sign the contract. Just you wait.”

Now, it’s nearing one o’clock, and Tadashi still hasn’t shown up at the lab yet. Hiro knows there’s no way he messed up the man’s schedule. He should only have one class today, and it should’ve ended an hour ago. Maybe he’s with Robert Callaghan.

Hiro eventually gets tired of his busy work and decides to walk around campus. He’s halfway to the dorms when he notices a man cutting across the lawn, a coffee cup in one hand and a danish in the other. It’s Tadashi. He’s wearing his SFIT cap again, along an infuriatingly attractive cardigan. 

Hiro doesn’t hesitate before approaching. He makes a beeline straight for Tadashi and cuts off his path.

“So, you are alive,” Hiro greets, pointedly, and Tadashi jumps. “What, are you trying to avoid me?”

Tadashi stares, then gapes. He’s convinced he’s gone mad enough to the point of a hallucination, except Hiro’s grimace is very real, very direct, and Tadashi can’t seem to swallow the bite he just took of his danish.

“I—Hiro,” he chokes out, awkwardly.

Has Hiro been looking, for him? He’s been at the library for the past few hours, but he had every intention of stopping by the lab, afterward. He just wanted to grab a coffee and something to eat.

“You were the one who wasn’t here yesterday,” he finally scolds, but it sounds weak. “I guess internships can be pretty flexible when they’re run by your father.”

Tadashi almost feels like Robert. He certainly sounds like him, right now. Everything feels strained between the two of them, now. Different. They’ve been texting, on and off, but their conversations have been superficial. It hurts a lot more than Tadashi wants to admit. The more Tadashi focuses on it, the lonelier he feels. He’s starting to realize that, without Robert, he virtually has no one. He’s spent so much energy on the affair that he’s forgotten to make any friends.

He feels pathetic.

But, right now, Hiro’s here. And— _well_ , that’s something.

He catches a glimpse of Hiro’s neck and notices the bruises. Tadashi can’t tell anymore if they’re even new, and he tries to convince himself he doesn’t care, but sick, unwarranted jealousy floods him. He quickly looks away, trying not to start shouting.

“I guess you were having a fun time with your married guy,” Tadashi concludes, stiffly.

Pride swarms Hiro, and he allows for an easy smile as he cocks his head and gives Tadashi a better view of his neck.

“He wanted to spend the day with me,” he explains. It’s then that Tadashi’s gaze lowers, and he decides to walk again. Hiro follows. “He took me to brunch, yesterday. That cute little spot near the East End. Soma, I think it was called? He let me try his mimosa. It was good.”

Tadashi stuffs the rest of the danish into his bag. “Does his wife know he’s banging a fourteen year-old?” he asks as they walk.

He laughs. “She’s an idiot, if she doesn’t know,” Hiro replies, matter of fact. “He doesn’t hide it. Sometimes, I think he just wants her to know. To spite her, or something.”

Tadashi wonders if this sort of confusion is normal in all relationships. He’s growing used to it, by now, with Robert. With Hiro, it just feels like the kid is playing with him: The jealousy, the affectionate glances, which are quickly mirrored by flaunted bruises. Tadashi can’t keep his head on straight. Everything is spinning, and he knows he can’t keep up the image of nonchalance forever. Eventually, he’s going to have to confront his feelings, even if he wants to pretend they aren’t there. 

They make their way to the lab, and he tries not to be entirely disgusted at Hiro’s lack of consideration. The kid doesn’t even care that he’s ruining a marriage. He’s a homewrecker. _Christ._ At least Robert is single, despite the taboo nature of his own affair. Hiro looks like he absolutely loves knowing he’s the reason a man’s life is going to hell. If anyone found out, that man would be ruined forever, and Hiro would just move on to the next. 

The next being Tadashi. 

“If you’re fucking around with me, just say it,” he says through gritted teeth as he pushes open the lab doors. “A blowjob isn’t getting you the patent… So, if you don’t have any other interest in me, I don’t have the time to fuck around with some desperate chicken.”

“I doubt that,” Hiro fires back. “I think I could steal all your blueprints of Baymax, trash your lab and even blow your professor, and you’d still want to fuck me. It’s written all over your face, Tadashi Hamada.”

Hiro laughs and strolls past Tadashi’s desk. There’s a considerable amount of textbooks stacked up on the center. It’s nearing the end of the semester, which means Tadashi is probably preparing for his finals.

“All this stress you’re feeling,” Hiro begins, tone easy; “it could all be washed away in a matter of seconds, if you just agreed to give Krei Tech your robot. You’d never have to look at another textbook again, dude. You’d be rich, and it’d be smooth sailing, and I’m sure my dad would love to have you on board. You could go on to invent even greater technology—with endless funds.”

Hiro watches Tadashi set down his coffee. He looks about ready to snap.

“Oh, come on,” he presses. “Are you really that mad at me for not showing up, yesterday? Jesus. I didn’t think you’d be such a clingy fag. It was just a blowjob. We aren’t, like, married, now.”

Tadashi can’t do this, today. 

“Why the fuck are you here?” he asks with desperation in his voice. He can’t believe a real human being would be this goddamn spiteful. “Yesterday was shit, okay? You’re not making today any better. So, kindly _fuck off_ , if you’re just here to torment me.”

Hiro closes most of the space between them and stares up at Tadashi, expectant. They’re close enough, now, that Hiro can hear just how heavy Tadashi is breathing, the literal heat from his body. It’s curious. He must be fighting with his professor. Maybe he really is folding to Krei Tech’s deal. 

“I’m a real person, Hiro,” Tadashi continues, and the words rush out in an emotional tumble. “I’m not a sociopathic tool like you. I can think and feel and, contrary to what you believe, I do have self-respect. I’m not going to fuck a two-bit whore like you, even if Krei Tech offered me the entire fucking company. So, just _drop it_ , okay? You can’t actually get into my pants by constantly insulting me!”

Hiro pulls in his lips and tries not to grin too widely. This is all too hysterical, to him. What if Tadashi is having some kind of emotional breakdown? Hiro thinks he may never stop laughing, if that were the case.

“Then, why’d you let me blow you, huh?” he asks. “It’s killing you that I have someone else, isn’t it? Someone providing me what you clearly _can’t_. You know, the whole reason why he fucked me so hard is because I told him all about you, how I took your cock in my mouth and made you scream my name. He wanted you to see my bruises, wanted you to know.”

Hiro exhales before grabbing at Tadashi’s hand. The man is shaking.

“Remember when I walked up to you, at the expo?” Hiro asks. His thumb brushes over Tadashi’s knuckles, and the man tries to pull away, but Hiro doesn’t let him. “I hadn’t even seen much of Baymax. It could’ve been shit, for all I knew. I walked up to you because you looked lonely, Tadashi; because you were handsome, and it didn’t seem right that everyone was ignoring you.”

He has to stretch his legs to properly whisper in Tadashi’s ear.

“I wanted you from the very beginning,” he explains. He slides a hand back down Tadashi’s chest and giggles. “I still want you. I think I understand you more than you understand yourself, Tadashi. I’m just trying to help.”

At that, he presses their lips together, instantly moaning against the man.

Hiro’s lips are soft and gentle, despite how desperate the kiss feels. It takes a good amount of willpower, but Tadashi finds it in himself to push Hiro away, none too gently. 

“No,” he growls out, wiping his mouth. Hiro kisses with his lips parted. “You can’t just—you can’t force yourself on me and expect that to be okay.”

Hiro is flushed and his lips are pouty and shiny. Tadashi snaps his gaze in the other direction. He’s very confused. He knows they shouldn’t, knows he shouldn’t get into something sexual with a boy he doesn’t even care about. A boy who is obviously toying with his heart and finding enjoyment there. 

“Why should I trust anything you say?” Tadashi asks, and it’s hard to contain his anger when he thinks of all the ways Hiro pisses him off. “You haven’t been honest. Not once. I know you haven’t. You have it written all over your face.”

Hiro stays positioned. He isn’t intimidated by the anger that sparks through the older man, but it’s a specific change he isn’t used to seeing on him, and he wonders if Robert Callaghan ever seen this side of Tadashi.

“You’re so paranoid,” he decides, still smiling. “Maybe this is why you denied my dad’s offer. You have some paranoid personality disorder. You might want to get that checked.”

Tadashi fumes. “Stop _patronizing_ me.”

Hiro raises his brow. “Look, I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he says as he—finally—pulls away. He’s impressed by how sincere he sounds. It’s the type of tone he uses with his father when he knows he’s at risk of staying on his bad side for longer than a few hours. Hiro puts some distance between the two before turning back around to assess Tadashi’s expression. “Do you want to talk about it? Is it Callaghan’s fault?”

Tadashi feels himself getting whiplash from Hiro’s attitude change. This kid has no idea how to converse with other humans. It’s pretty astounding how obviously he disconnects from sympathy and empathy while he pretends to care. Tadashi knows all of this is a game; yet, he’s been silently begging for someone to ask him that question all day. 

Groaning, he slumps onto one of the lab bench stools, knowing he looks pathetic and that he’s oddly self-conscious of it. 

“He just—” Tadashi starts, but he hesitates and feels his complexion turning. “He’s been acting so _weird._ We had dinner, last night, and he didn’t take me home, and I think it’s because he’s jealous of you."

There’s an awkward silence, because he’s just admitted that there’s at least some kind of heated connection between Hiro and Tadashi. So, he keeps talking, before the younger boy has a chance to react. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tadashi grumbles. “I mean, I guess you don’t have to be boyfriends to get jealous, but he doesn’t have any right to act like this just because of someone else. _Especially_ since he’s always told me he wants me to explore other options. Like, why doesn’t he just tell me he wants a relationship, if he’s, like, I don’t know…”

“In love with you?” Hiro finishes. His smile is smug. “The whole thing sounds outlandishly gay, Tadashi. Dinner? Wanting to be taken back to his place? That’s a fucking date, not casual sex.”

Tadashi exhales. It’s all confusing and terrifying. He’s not used to this. Before SFIT, he hardly realized relationships were even a tangible thing that could happen; now, he’s starting to wish he had stayed away from Robert.

“He shouldn’t make you feel guilty,” Hiro reasons. “I mean, look at it this way: He’s your professor, your educator, and it seems like, from what you’ve told me, he’s paid special attention, to you, since day one. It’s why you got this lab and why your project was submitted to the expo.”

“I—I know,” he responds, weakly.

Hiro watches Tadashi’s expression—eyes still down, face still crestfallen—rearrange into something more pensive. He hopes Tadashi isn’t going to cry. His voice is strained, and he’s looking at everything in the lab just to avoid looking at Hiro. It’s pitiful how someone can be this open about their emotions, just pouring them out and expecting sincere sympathy. It’s not as though Tadashi just stumbled into this mess, blind. His problems are self-inflicted. He had the choice to get involved with his professor and, now, he’s making the choice not to tell Callaghan to fuck off and stop acting like a pathetic, old faggot.

If this were any other situation, Hiro would tell Tadashi that—and more. But, right now, Tadashi is vulnerable, and Hiro knows it’s the best opportunity yet to manipulate him into getting what he wants. So, the boy gazes at Tadashi with a considerate expression and makes sure the subsequent exhale is audible. 

“He might say one thing,” Hiro continues; “but, it sure as hell sounds like he’s guilting you into staying with him because of all he’s done. And, that’s not fair. You didn’t ask him to dote on you, or fuck you. He did that on his own free will. You don’t owe him anything, despite what he probably is making you think.”

Tadashi doesn’t want to consider that, maybe, there’s some truth there. Hiro has already mentioned everyone in the robotics industry tries to sabotage other people’s successes, and that terrifies him. Robert has never proved himself to be dishonest. And, why would he lie when Tadashi has always been extremely open to where their relationship was going? He’s always asked if Robert wanted to stop before it got too serious. 

But, he’s never asked if Robert wanted to take it a step further.

That couldn’t have been out of the cards, not enough for Robert to lie, even if there is something the man still hasn’t told Tadashi.

“I feel like I can’t trust anyone,” he admits, quietly. “It feels like everyone is rejecting me. And, I know you’re just trying to sleep with me because you want something. It’s not exactly encouraging.”

Hiro scoffs. “If I actually were demanding that you drop everything and sign a contract with my father, I wouldn’t have sucked your cock without shoving a pen and paper at you, first,” he tells him, sounding annoyed, now. “I mean, do I think you’re an idiot for rejecting the offer and, instead, facing all this melodrama with your pervy professor? _Yeah._ But, I think you’re being stupider, now, allowing him to have full reign over all your decisions.”

Tadashi makes an aggravated grunt, to which Hiro just laughs and retraces his steps back toward the older man.

“Who used to tell you what to do before you came to San Fransokyo, huh?” he asks. He takes off Tadashi’s baseball cap and brushes his fingers through his bangs, settling his hat hair. “Come on. I know you’re not some pathetic, codependent fag. You’re capable of making your own decisions, aren’t you? Doing what you please, _who_ you please.”

Hiro smirks and grabs at Tadashi’s chin, forcing their gazes to meet.

“If I were you, I’d be so sick and tired of Robert Callaghan’s bullshit, that I’d schedule a meeting with Krei Tech—just to prove, to him, that he can’t control you. I think you deserve that, ’Dashi.”

Hiro is messing with him. Tadashi knows that. But, it’s so hard to not just give into instinct when the boy’s lips are twisting and smiling and forcing Tadashi to remember how _good_ they felt.

After all, at least Hiro wants to fuck.

Tadashi feels his stomach flip. Still sitting, he pulls Hiro between his legs and slowly traces Hiro’s bottom lip with his thumb. Their thighs brush together. Hiro inhales.

“I’m still not saying yes,” he prefaces. Hopefully, if Hiro has a goal, he’ll back away. But, he doesn’t, and the two of them just stare at one another while the air between them flickers with electricity.

In the end, it’s Tadashi who slips his hand behind Hiro’s neck and pulls them together, kissing for the second time that day. Hiro practically falls over trying to get closer, and Tadashi helps him with getting up into his lap.

Tadashi touches Hiro’s ass to make sure he doesn’t fall, and he flushes, realizing that he’s expected to do something like that. It doesn’t feel as awkward as he imagined, and he keeps telling himself go with it so he doesn’t spend too much time calculating. Hiro goes for his neck, lips hot and wet, and Tadashi just lets it happen, groaning.

The boy is smirking so devilishly into Tadashi’s neck that he knows the man must feel it. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, biting at it and giggling. He can practically feel Tadashi thinking. He’s uncertain about what to do next, so Hiro helps him out by rutting against him, urging his hands elsewhere.

“You’re already hard,” he teases. “Did you think about this, all of yesterday? Getting me alone again to fuck me?”

Tadashi’s groan is more annoyed than aroused. Hiro slides his hand under Tadashi’s shirt, touching the heated skin there and making a small, desperate noise. Tadashi’s cock noticeably twitches. Hiro envisions that hard cock sinking inside him, stretching him open and how Tadashi will revel in the tightness. It will be such a new sensation, for him. Completely different.

“Think you can handle it?” Hiro then taunts, pulling away. “Or, are you just some sad, clumsy bottom? Can’t even handle a cute fourteen year-old boy?”

Tadashi can tell the taunting arouses Hiro, above all else. He grows hard the more he jabs at him, belittling him in between wet, sloppy kisses. Hiro probably wants Tadashi to take violent control, to grab his hair and force him down and fuck him.

_No._

That’s for his married man. Tadashi fucks differently, even if he’s going to top.

He makes sure his back is against something sturdy before he leans, dragging his fingertips up Hiro’s shirt and pulling it off. Hiro is flawless, smooth and young. It’s almost enough to make him stop, but then Hiro gives a dirty little smirk, whispers heated words—“Come on, ’Dashi; I can feel how _hard_ your dick is,” he says—and grinds one more time so that Tadashi remembers he can’t stop.

“Shit, Hiro…”

Tadashi keeps one hand on Hiro’s hips as he reaches to unbutton his pants. Hiro is squirming and moaning, and he’s not wearing underwear, which Tadashi doesn’t think is very surprising. He reaches for the boy’s cock, and nearly gapes at how his palm can cover the entire thing. Everything about this kid is small.

Hiro spreads his legs and thrusts up into Tadashi’s hand, setting a pace for himself. Tadashi’s hand isn’t nearly as skilled as Alistair’s, but Hiro is willing to forgive him, since he’s staring down at his leaking cock, mesmerized by how boyishly small it is, how, even hard, its encased in his hand. Hiro wants to make a move to strip Tadashi of his shirt, but decides against it. He wants Tadashi to take charge.

He thinks, actually, Tadashi looks quite handsome, right now. His eyes are dark, focused. His mouth is parted, his breath uneven. When he smears at the precome leaking from Hiro’s cock, he moans and leans forward to nip at Hiro’s neck.

It almost hurts. Alistair hadn’t been gentle about his bruises. Tadashi only seems to be retracing them, and Hiro instinctively pulls away.

“Ever thought about fucking a kid?” Hiro asks. His tone sounds cruel. “Fuck. You could get into a lot of trouble, for this, Hamada.”

Tadashi drops his grip. Someone needs to knock this kid down onto his ass, to break the spirit that keeps him so confident. Tadashi isn’t about to do it with slapping, or bruising.

“You’re pretty mouthy for a used-up little whore,” he says, but his tone is gentle and soothing, and he intends to give as many mixed messages as he can. “I would think someone would have fucked it out of you, by now.”

To make his point, Tadashi goes from Hiro’s cock, up his chest, to his lips, and only spends a few moments there before shoving his thumb inside Hiro’s mouth.

He loves the way Hiro isn’t expecting it, like he thought Tadashi was the type to caress and brush away fears. Within seconds, Tadashi’s got his first two fingers down Hiro’s throat. They already figured out he doesn’t have a gag reflex.

“If you can stay quiet, maybe, when I fuck you, I’ll let you come,” he decides on saying.

Hiro has his mouth opened wide to accommodate Tadashi’s fingers. His father’s cock may be thicker than Tadashi’s, but Tadashi’s fingers are, undoubtedly, thicker than Alistair’s. He almost gags—almost—but, only because he’s surprised by just how full his mouth feels with only two sliding down his throat. He leans his head back and groans, allowing a string of drool to fall from the corner of his mouth.

If Tadashi is attempting to shame him, it’s not working. Alistair has already called him every name in the book, demeaned him in ways that had Hiro coming harder and faster than should be humanly possible.

He slides his tongue between Tadashi’s fingers, nodding and moaning as he continues to push against his lap. Tadashi’s cock is positioned just under his ass, and he can feel it pressing into him, hard and eager.

His small hand reaches down to pull at Tadashi’s belt, throwing it to the floor and grinning around the man’s fingers. His eyes spark with expectation, but Tadashi looks bemused. Hiro wonders, distantly, if the lab door is locked. Anyone could walk in on them, right now. Even Robert Callaghan. Hiro practically laughs.

Tadashi pulls his fingers away so he can tug on Hiro’s shorts, pulling them down past his ass. There’s something arousing, to him, about them still being trapped around Hiro’s thighs, like they’re emphasizing how quick of a fuck this is, how _dirty._ Hiro’s body is even smaller in his hands without the clothing. 

Determined, Hiro manages to get Tadashi’s cock out, but it’s Tadashi who pulls them closer so he can grab both of their erections with one hand—a surprisingly easy task, with Hiro being so tiny. He watches Hiro’s chest rise and fall, faster and faster, and leans forward to press his mouth to the smooth skin. He’s going slow and Hiro is getting frustrated. 

“You’re too eager,” Tadashi breathes against Hiro’s skin, where he nips and grins as the boy jumps. “I know you love dick and all, but there’s no need to rush.”

It’s almost as though he is drowning in Tadashi’s grasp. The small, desperate pants he makes only quicken when Hiro brings his own fingers back to his mouth, wetting them, before dipping them back behind him.

It’s an easy process, from here. He starts with two, groaning loudly when they slide deep inside. He clenches around himself, only because he’s envisioning what a tight fit it will be when Tadashi finally sinks inside him.

“You’re so big, ’Dashi,” Hiro breathes. “I want you to fuck me. I want your big, thick cock to stretch me open.”

He feels Tadashi exhale, at that. Hiro chokes down another desperate sob before he throws a single arm over the man’s shoulder, steadying his pace. Hiro’s eyes fall shut. He’s fucking himself on his fingers, now. He could probably come from this alone. Tadashi’s cock is still sliding against his own, and Hiro can feel the man’s gaze on him, hot and burning.

It would be amazing to see Hiro come, and Tadashi certainly wants to, at some point; but, he has to keep his earlier threat alive. He can’t have the boy getting too comfortable. He quickly reaches and tugs Hiro’s fingers out, quirking a brow at Hiro’s resulting whimper.

Almost angrily, Tadashi positions himself at Hiro’s ass, only intending to tease; he’s shocked when Hiro starts to sink down.

“Woah, wait,” Tadashi breathes harshly, holding Hiro up. “You’ve only had two fingers. And, fuck, we should—”

_—use a condom._

Hiro clenches his teeth, trying to worm away from Tadashi’s hold so he can sink down on the man’s hard, ready cock. Tadashi refuses and almost pulls away entirely until Hiro whimpers and tries to speak.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m ready. I can take it, I swear.”

But, that doesn’t seem to be Tadashi’s only concern, now. It’s all enough hesitation to have the man thinking coherently, even just for a moment. Hiro thinks about insulting him again, telling him his cock isn’t nearly as thick as his “married man” and that, surely, it’ll be easy to slide down onto him. But, Tadashi’s breath is still hitched, and he uses one hand to feel for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Fuck,” the boy curses, impatient. He snatches the wallet from the man’s hands and quickly digs out the small foil packet. He shoves it at Tadashi, unwilling to do any work, at this point. “Just—hurry up. Christ, you’re annoying.”

Tadashi feels marginally more comfortable with a condom, although he’s never actually worn one. Robert has been adamant about safe sex, about how getting into proper habits will keep Tadashi and all his future partners safe. Tadashi has always understood the man’s concern, but Tadashi knows he’s clean, and he thinks, even if Hiro is a vindictive little brat, he’s not so evil that he would purposefully give him anything.

He’s not using it for protection, he tells himself. Just the lubrication that coats the outside, and his fingers, as he tries to slide it over his erection. Tadashi is surprised when he doesn’t struggle. He supposes they do make these things idiot-proof.

The second he has it on, Hiro whines and pushes down. 

Tadashi gasps. He feels way too tight, just pressing against his entrance. There’s a moment when he’s positive this won’t work and that Hiro won’t fit, but then Hiro breathes in deep and sits down on his cock. 

It feels like Hiro is trying to milk him dry. Tadashi feels the breath leave his body, and a desperate quick moan escapes. He explores with his hands, fingers brushing where they’re connected as Hiro continues to take all of him. 

_Christ._ Tadashi wasn’t able to go this deep on his first ten tries. Hiro arches like a professional. His expression is pure bliss, and he rolls his hips like he’s getting paid for it. It’s so tight that Tadashi can feel himself throbbing against Hiro’s insides. 

“You take it so well,” he says in a huff, meaning to say it like a compliment but realizing how it sounds afterward. “Jesus. You’re so hard.”

Tadashi’s thighs are shaking. He’s loving every moment of this, the tight, wet willingness of Hiro. Above him, Hiro softly giggles before clenching around Tadashi.

“Knew you’d love it,” Hiro whispers. It takes almost all his energy to lift his hips and slide up Tadashi’s cock, but he moves, freely, and rolls his hips with purpose. “F-Fuck, Tadashi—it—feels so good.”

Tadashi’s curious fingers are still grazing against the back of him. Hiro feels the man’s thumb tracing just how wide he is being stretched, and he thinks, for a moment, how wonderful it would be if Tadashi were to slip a finger inside. He could stretch that wide, Hiro thinks. Wider, too, if needed. He’s thought about taking way more, before. He loses himself in a fantasy, briefly, about both his father and Tadashi pinning him down and taking him as they please. They’d fight over him, surely. Try to out show one another. Hiro’s smirk widens as he thrusts down on Tadashi’s cock, loudly groaning and balancing himself on his shoulders.

“You like that?” he asks when he clenches again and sees how Tadashi’s mouth parts. “Not so high and mighty anymore, Tadashi—fucking a little boy.”

When he laughs, it’s cruel and assertive. Almost immediately, Tadashi reacts. His large hands reach for Hiro’s hips, shoving him back down and keeping him in place. Hiro feels his stomach react to the pressure and moans.

“Fuck. Tadashi. Move.”

“No,” he says, a questioning tone to his voice, like he hadn’t thought of this kind of power control before now. “Not until you’re nice.”

Oh, how the tables turn quickly when he’s with Hiro. He’d be perfectly willing to keep going, to keep moving, if Hiro weren’t such a little shit. Before Hiro can struggle away, or reach to touch himself, Tadashi’s hand snaps out and grabs, keeping the boy sitting.

Hiro whines, and Tadashi just sits back and smirks, watching him struggle. Surely, feeling a cock throb inside him like this is torture when it isn’t moving. Hiro clenches, and Tadashi’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t lose his resolve.

He’s quite proud of himself, actually, for not pushing Hiro to the lab bench and ramming into him. Slow, torturous and drawn-out sex is exactly what the little brat needs.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Tadashi scolds. “You don’t deserve to get off.”

Hiro curses. It’s not a game the way it is with Alistair. Even in their most heated moments, Hiro knows Alistair will fold, that he can always get his father do what he wants. Alistair loves fucking him as much as Hiro loves to be fucked, and neither of them have ever had enough willpower to deny one another. Hiro thought Tadashi would just be another man, easy to conquer, easy to manipulate. But, there’s a type of determination flickering through his gaze that is new, to Hiro.

Hiro refuses not to win, though. He’s aching, right now; his cock is leaking and throbbing while Tadashi’s is buried so perfectly inside him, and he needs release. His whines become more aggravated, tortured until he’s twisting his wrists.

“Fuck you,” Hiro seethes out, but he slams his lips against Tadashi’s in the next moment, kissing him harder and deeper than ever.

Tadashi makes a less than pleased noise back, and Hiro feels him trying to move away, but Hiro’s lips follow. He bites at Tadashi’s lip, sucking it and slipping his tongue inside the man’s mouth.

“Christ, please,” he groans, lips still connected. He’s clenching around Tadashi, over and over. “Fuck me, Tadashi.”

Tadashi knows Hiro prides himself on how small he is, but right now, he’s at a disadvantage because of it. Tadashi doesn’t want to throw Hiro around and fuck him; he wants to keep him here, to fuck him slow.

“Ask nicely,” he taunts, trying to stop himself from grinning, because Hiro looks so _pissed_. “Say please.”

It’s absolutely hilarious when Hiro scowls. His little cock has a bead of precome dripping down the length, and Tadashi admires it, shamelessly.

“Say please, _nicely_ , or this ends, right here and now.”

Hiro curses again through gritted teeth. It’s insufferable how Tadashi has taken control. He can’t even fucking pinpoint exactly how it happened. He should be the one begging, right now. He certainly was a few days ago when Hiro was between his legs, swallowing his cock. Hiro wants nothing more, right now, than to spit in Tadashi’s face and tell him to shut the hell up and just fuck him.

He manages to move his hips—just slightly—and wiggle in Tadashi’s lap just enough to elicit the smallest reaction from the man. He falls forward, fusing their chests and panting against the man.

“Please, ’Dashi,” he whispers. He sounds weaker than he’s used to hearing. His tone isn’t laced with that sultry impishness he occasionally uses on Alistair and is, instead, calmer. “ _Please._ I want you to fuck me.”

His small, wet tongue lines the man’s neck before he nips at the man’s ear, gently. He giggles when he feels the older man stiffen under him.

“I want to come,” he continues, heatedly; “and, I know you do, too. So, please. Fuck me.”

That’s good enough, Tadashi supposes.

Tadashi bites his lip and pushes up. Hiro cries out in way he hasn’t heard before, and he thinks, maybe, he’s breaking Hiro down. But, then again, Hiro broke him down, too, all the way down to fucking a kid because he came on too hard.

It still isn’t fair.

Tadashi eyes the lab bench, and Hiro is so light that he doesn’t need to use much strength to lift him up and spread him across it. From this angle, he can properly see how wide Hiro is stretched open.

He looks down at the boy, who is heavy-lidded and flushed and looking just a little bit confused. Tadashi leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead and brush away his bangs.

Hiro furrows his brow and turns away from the subsequent kiss. “Fuckin’ weirdo,” he huffs out.

That’s when Tadashi thrusts, hard, determined to make Hiro cry out again. It takes a few goes, but he’s able to find the right angle, and he hits it over and over until he realizes Hiro’s legs are around his waist. 

“You get all fussy when you get teased.”

Hiro clenches around Tadashi and focuses on how deep the man is going. His prostrate feels thoroughly used already, and Tadashi hasn’t even really gotten started.

His hips rise and fall in sync with Tadashi’s hard thrusts. It’s so damn filthy the way Tadashi pulls back, again, just to stare down where his cock is sliding in and out of Hiro. He must love this new thrill of finally topping. It’s so wet between them because of the lubrication of the condom and, while Hiro hates that they’re using one, he still enjoys the filthy sounds their bodies have created.

Hiro falls back, spreading his legs wide before they find their way over Tadashi’s shoulders. He can feel Tadashi completely inside him, now.

“God—Tadashi—!”

Tadashi can’t take it anymore, and his thrusts become erratic, but Hiro seems to love it all the more. It’s a cross between animalistic and careful; Tadashi is sure to keep Hiro feeling good, but he can’t stop himself from pushing into that tight heat again and again.

Hiro’s muttering nonsense, something straight out of a porn movie, and it’s the quiet and unintelligible dirty talk that sends Tadashi over the edge. He pushes Hiro’s legs back to his ears and comes hard, forehead bowed against Hiro’s clavicle when he releases.

He feels wetness between them and catches how Hiro’s come soaks his stomach. He’s twitching and clenching and tightening around Tadashi’s cock and they pant against one another, sweaty and exhausted. 

Tadashi can’t find it in himself to pull out. 

“You’re a good top,” Hiro murmurs. He laughs and wipes his forehead. “Don’t know why you’ve been wasting your time, getting fucked by that old, senile professor.”

After another laugh, Hiro moves to push Tadashi off him. He’s not interested in afterglow—especially in a fucking lab. Tadashi obliges, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to, and he’s the one that groans when his cock slides out of Hiro.

Hiro watches the man peel the condom off. Tadashi flushes under the gaze and turns away, which causes Hiro to snicker to himself.

“You just had your cock up my ass,” he reminds him with a roll of his eyes. “No need to get bashful.”

Tadashi grabs his belt from the floor and can’t help but notice how Hiro is glowing. Just like he was when he sucked Tadashi off, only more intense. For a second or two, Tadashi stares at him, before realizing and moving to find Hiro’s shirt. He’s pretty sure, now that he’s seen Hiro orgasm, he’s never going to forget it. He’s seen Hiro in his most undressed state. Behind all the cruel comments and the bratty exterior, he’s still just a vulnerable, confused kid.

They could relate about that, probably. Tadashi barely knows up from down, let alone why he’s still fucking his professor.

“He was my first,” Tadashi admits. It’s as if a barrier has broken down between them. _Well_ , for Tadashi, at least. He doubts Hiro feels the same. “I know it wasn’t a big deal, for him. I still don’t know a lot about fucking.”

It’s makes more sense, knowing Tadashi lost his virginity to Callaghan. There’s supposed to be a sentimentality, to that. It’s supposed to be special. It probably all was, and Tadashi, despite his best efforts, most likely feels attached to the man, despite not actually having any romantic feelings.

“Seems like it was a big deal, for him,” Hiro reasons. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be throwing such a fit at the thought of losing you to some big corporation like Krei Tech.”

Hiro pulls on his remaining clothing and doesn’t bother to fuss with his hair. Tadashi is still fingering through his, determined to make it look as though nothing transpired.

“I think it’s pretty fucked up that he’s making you feel like shit,” he then says, moving back toward Tadashi and helping him straighten out his wrinkled shirt. He looks up at the older man, eyes still heavy with lust but serious, contemplative. “Like I said, you don’t owe him anything.”

They hold each other’s gaze. Tadashi looks lost, as though he’s realizing something he hadn’t quite allowed himself to think yet. It’s satisfying, to Hiro, and the boy wonders if he’s considering what to do with Alistair’s offer.

He smiles and strains himself on his tip-toes to kiss Tadashi’s cheek.

“You’re not actually stupid, you know,” Hiro tells him with a smirk. “So, stop acting so dumb when it comes to that guy.”

Tadashi is just some teenage boy to Robert. A passing phase. Someone he can leave behind during the summer to go back to his life.

Maybe he should do what he wants, as a form of respect for himself. 

“Patents are a big step for someone like me,” Tadashi says, quietly. “I—I don’t know. I’ll think about it, I guess. But, not because of this.”

Tadashi keeps Hiro’s gaze for a second longer. Should he feel like a fool, now? Is that what Hiro is thinking about him? Tadashi frowns and turns away.

“This is just fucking, right?”

“Sure,” Hiro tells him. “As long as that’s all you want it to be.”

Tadashi hesitates before he nods, slowly. “Okay,” he says. “Then, would it… be weird, I guess, to ask for, like, your number?”

A curious expression unravels upon Hiro’s face, and Tadashi wonders if a man has ever asked for his number in such a gentle, casual manner. It’s almost embarrassing, because Tadashi is absolutely certain Hiro is going to say no when, finally, the boy’s lips spread into an amused grin, and he walks over to the desk to grab a post-it.

“All right,” he agrees. “I suppose that’s fair game.”

Tadashi was going to suggest he just punch it into his phone, but Hiro is already jotting down the digits onto the yellow piece of paper. Along with several messy hearts. He yanks it off the pad and presses it against Tadashi’s chest.

“ _Hm_ ,” Hiro muses; “I wonder what your professor would think, if he knew you were asking for phone numbers from little boys?”

“That’s not—I’m not going to tell him,” Tadashi stutters out. He unpeels the post-it and stares at the set of numbers. He half-wonders if it’s even real, or if Hiro is playing another prank. “Thanks, though. I guess?”

Hiro gives a small laugh. “Text me something raunchy, will you?” he requests, and he’s already strolling out the door.

* * *

Hiro takes a shower, immediately upon returning to the penthouse. The cleaning lady is there when he gets home, and he gives her a nod of acknowledgement before making a beeline for the bathroom. As much as he thinks he could revel in the jealousy of Alistair smelling another man on him, he thinks it’s far too useful of a scheme to use tonight and, instead, decides he’d much rather delight in the victory of trapping Tadashi Hamada exactly where he wants him.

The sex was good, he decides. Tadashi fucked him nice and hard without ever really making them fall into a heat of passion. It was more angry than anything else—although, had Hiro been given the choice, he would’ve requested a bit more aggression from the man. A few bruises here and there would’ve been nice.

It was all very different. Tadashi didn’t cater to his needs. It pisses Hiro off, if he thinks about it too much, but there was also something… _interesting_ about the change. Hiro still looks at Tadashi and sees a challenge. Likewise, Tadashi is apparently just as determined to make Hiro play his way.

His hair is still damp when his father returns home. Hiro is on the couch, scrolling through some boring online forum on his laptop, when the door unlocks.

He and Alistair make eye contact almost immediately, and it’s tense, heated, but an easy smile spreads across the boy’s face that tells his father of his success.

“Hi, Daddy,” he greets, casually. He shuts his laptop and waits for his father to situate himself. “So, guess what!”

Alistair’s stomach drops, but he tries to hide it. He can see the news written all over Hiro’s face, and he fucking despises it. Hiro appears to not even care, acting as though his favorite thing in the world is torturing his father. Really, it probably _is_ his favorite thing. Alistair grimaces.

“I can only imagine,” he drawls, putting his things down on the counter and preparing himself to hear, yet again, about another man. A man, he is now deciding, is entirely not worth the effort.

This is all so unnecessary, and he’s the one that suggested it. And, even if he hadn’t, Hiro should be free to do what he wants. It’s not like this is a conventional relationship. But, Alistair can’t help but cringe when he imagines what the two of them have done together. It causes his throat to tighten.

He sighs and grabs some whiskey from the cabinet. He’s not going to deal with this well, and he knows it. Any request to tell Hiro to not give details will be ignored. He needs to just get as drunk as possible so he can pretend it never happened.

Alistair stares expectantly at his son, eyebrow raised, whiskey brought to his lips.

“Well, come sit down!” he orders. 

Alistair holds his gaze, visibly bemused, and Hiro places his laptop on the coffee table. Ultimately, Alistair does take a seat—but, on the chair. Hiro huffs and gets up so he can sit with him. He plops himself down on his father’s lap, nearly spilling the whiskey, before he pulls his father close and kisses him, carefully, on the mouth.

“Hamada is a shit kisser, first of all,” he tells his dad, grinning against the next kiss. “Secondly, he’s incredibly rude and made me do most of the work for the first half of it.”

Alistair takes another sip of whiskey—or, maybe it’s more of a gulp—and reclines on the chair. He makes no attempt to put his arm around Hiro like he usually does, so the boy sinks down against his father, aligning with his chest and kissing at his chin.

“He used a condom,” he then supplies, dully. He doesn’t miss the flash of relief that passes through his father’s features. It’s curious. “And, afterward, he sort of got weird. I thought he was gonna cry, for a second. He said he’s gonna think about it. The contract. I could hear it in his voice, though—he’s definitely interested, now, Daddy.”

The name feels odd, now. Hiro’s been with another man. Alistair keeps repeating that in his head. Did Hiro use the same pet names? Did he moan the same way? Did he like it?

Alistair eyes him and wonders if he should be blunt, or if he should play along. Hiro seems to know this gets to him. He’s got that smirk on his face that says he wants to be fucked hard, as a sort of claim.

Alistair really, really doesn’t care about the stupid robot anymore.

“He’s not worth your time,” he says, and he sees something in Hiro’s eyes. A flash of disappointment? It makes Alistair want to forget his own name. “You should leave Hamada alone. Krei Tech can always patent something far more useful than that silly nursebot.”

“What about the internship?” Hiro asks. It’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and he knows it sounds hysterical. He’s never expressed any interest in the internship, and it’s not as though any of the work he’s done at SFIT has been useful to Krei Tech. “Are you going to make Gogo transfer me back to the office?”

Alistair chugs the remainder of his whiskey. When he places the glass on the side table, it’s not gentle. Hiro raises a brow. He doesn’t doubt there’s better tech out there than Baymax. There’s always something better. But, securing Baymax secures Tadashi Hamada, and he’s the type of robotics genius that would make Krei Tech further flourish.

“I don’t care about the internship, Hiro,” Alistair answers. “This isn’t worth it.”

“I almost have him, though,” he then argues. “Seriously. He said he’d think about it!”

There’s a distressed groan that leaves Alistair as he urges Hiro off his lap. Hiro stays positioned on the sofa chair, staring up at his father who, suddenly, doesn’t seem to want to look at him anymore.

“Is this about Robert Callaghan?” Hiro asks, even though he knows it has nothing to do with that man—not right now. But, he delights in how his father’s shoulders stiffen before he turns around to stare down at Hiro. “What’s the beef with him? Come on. Since when do we keep secrets from each other, Daddy?”

There’s a very particular grin on Hiro’s face, one that reminds Alistair of all that they have between them. The unbalanced danger that is their relationship. The unsettling truth about Maemi.

Hiro rubs his foot against his father’s well-pressed suit pants. He knows he shouldn’t have this much power in their relationship. It’s certainly not unnatural. And, he knows, every time Alistair swallows hard and fails to speak, that his father is truly afraid of him.

“You know I won’t tell…”

Those words ignite a fury within Alistair. That coy, seductive tone, those wide eyes that glisten every time he bats his eyelashes and stares up at his father, _testing him_. Hiro is, undoubtedly, too fucked up to understand anything about a normal human emotion, but Alistair finds himself fuming when he thinks how little sympathy his son has, for him, right now.

“Why don’t you get it?” he hisses. “This—it’s nothing to do with Krei Tech, or Callaghan. It’s _you_ , Hiro! It’s always fucking _you_.”

Hiro looks affronted. That just presses the rage harder.

“You’re so… Hiro, I hate this. I hate knowing you’re around him. I hate the way you talk about him. Christ, Hiro, do you know how much I’ve sacrificed, for you? And, you just continue to keep me powerless? You don’t even act like a real person.”

There’s panic in Alistair’s voice, fear. Hiro gives a raspberry noise as he flops further into the chair and rolls his eyes at his father.

“You’re the one who pinned me on him, in the first place,” Hiro complains. “Do I really need to remind you that this was all your idea?”

Alistair quells his next reaction and, instead, grabs his glass and walks back to the kitchen, where he pours himself more whiskey. Hiro gets up from the chair, but only because he wants to continue watching his father’s expressions. Is he really jealous? Jealous of Tadashi? It’d be hysterical, if it weren’t so pathetic.

“He has more to offer than just Baymax,” Hiro then tells his father. “If Baymax is his first invention, think of everything else he could think up. Are you really suggesting I should just give up because you’re—what, threatened?”

Hiro laughs, lightly, and gets up to approach his father, once more. He pulls at his tie, twisting it between his fingers and gazing up at him, both cunning and amused. Alistair feels stiff under his touch.

“I—I didn’t think you would get this _invested_ ,” Alistair sneers, pushing Hiro away. He shoots down the whiskey and winces. “For God’s sake… He can’t ever, _ever_ know about us, Hiro. He can’t know about your mother.”

That seems to cause Hiro to flinch, however slightly. Alistair knows that the room is going to start spinning soon. Hiro usually loves when he’s drunk. Mostly because he does just about anything.

“I’m not going to stop seeing him,” Hiro tells him. “I’m too close to give up, now.”

Alistair tightens his grip on his glass. “What’s wrong with you?” he hisses. It’s more of a question, to himself. “Why do you want to be this way with older men? You’re hopeless.”

He doesn’t feel bad, which is surprising, because he always thought he’d feel a twinge of guilt while telling Hiro what he thinks. This relationship is dysfunctional, at best; but, _fucking Christ_ ,he loves Hiro. He’s never going to say that, which probably makes it worse, but that’s why he can’t bring himself to end anything, no matter how guilty he feels, no matter how unhealthy this is, for Hiro.

Alistair knows that, tonight, Hiro could get him in bed. Hiro could push and demand and _beg_ , and Alistair, ever always, would fold. It’s as predictable as it is complicated.

“If you’re so concerned about me, why’d you fuck me, to begin with?” Hiro asks, bitterly. When Alistair starts to pour even more whiskey, Hiro reaches to try some, but his father pulls the glass away. Hiro groans. “You could’ve said no to a lot of things—including giving me that money when I met with Yama.”

Here it comes. The manipulation. To anyone else, Alistair knows he’d sound insane when proclaiming Hiro has been the one calling the shots, who has been controlling the relationship. Hiro is innocent, they would say, and Alistair is the one who should be punished. And, maybe, they’re right. Hiro is just a child, after all. A victim of his mother’s cruelty and illness. 

_And, yet…_

“You and I both know it wasn’t that simple,” he says, and his voice is surprisingly calm. “She was doing horrible things, to you, Hiro. She was practically your pimp.”

Hiro sighs, dramatically, and heads back over to the living room. He can feel his father’s gaze on him, heavy and angry. He normally loves when Alistair is possessive of him. It’s exciting, fun—and, those jealous fits have resulted in some of the best sex they’ve had. But, this is something different. Alistair seems far more determined to twist this into a completely different issue, right now, and it’s _no fun_.

Alistair turns and appraises Hiro with a skeptical look. The glass stays firmly in his hand.

“Just— _stop_ , Hiro,” he chokes out. “Stop acting so indifferent.”

Hiro’s lips quirk the slightest. “Stop acting like you’re really my dad, _Alistair_.”

And, that forces it all out.

The anger, the rage, the resentment. 

Alistair tosses the glass of whiskey at the opposite wall, and it shatters, like cracked ice over a lake.

“You’re fucking insane!” he curses at Hiro. “You _know_ I can’t do anything! You know you have me trapped!”

Hiro watches the golden liquid drip down the expensive wallpaper. and onto the plush carpet. Alistair is pacing in the living room, now. He probably wants more to drink, but he’s too frazzled. Hiro is growing bored of this argument. It’s pitiful, and he recalls how silent Alistair was the night Maemi didn’t return home, how he wouldn’t look Hiro in the eye until the boy slid into his lap and assured him everything would be okay. They wouldn’t get caught, he assured his father.

“Aw, don’t sound so upset, Daddy,” Hiro coos. He catches the man’s wrist and stops him. Alistair’s skin feels hot under his touch, and the man stares down at him, eyes wide and uncertain. “You wanted her gone just as much as I did. After all, she was just after your money. She probably would’ve found a way to off you so she could steal your fortune. I saved you.”

That slow, assertive smirk extends on his lips before he stands and presses against his father’s chest. It’s bizarrely gentle, needy. Exactly how he intends. Alistair’s arms stay limp at his side.

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?” he whispers, stretching up on his toes and breathing against the man’s neck. He’s playing with his tie again—only, this time, he’s pulling it off. Seconds later, his small fingers are unbuckling his belt. “Come on, Daddy. You’re just stressed, aren’t you? _Relax_. I promise I’ll get you that robot. You’ll be richer than ever, and it’ll just be you and me. Like always.”

Alistair inhales. He hates himself. He hates Hiro. 

With a dull, sad laughter, he drags his hands down his face and groans, knowing that Hiro has him trapped—yet again—and that he’s too drunk and too pathetic to do anything about it. Reluctantly, he allows Hiro to tear off his belt and unbutton his pants.

He knows their sex tonight will be angry and desperate. And, really, there was never a question as to whether or not they would wind up in bed. It was an inevitability.

“Just shut up, _for once_ ,” he murmurs as he shoves Hiro down onto his knees.


	5. Chapter 5

Hiro is already half-awake when he hears his phone go off.

He groans, bleary-eyed and exhausted, and shifts further underneath the covers. There’s steam coming from the bathroom. Alistair has been in the shower for longer than usual. He’s clearly hungover, and Hiro wonders if his father is as sore as he is, right now.

His thighs hurt. His forearms ache. Alistair was rough and demanding and perfectly giving to his son’s needs, and it’d be worth if it his father were here in bed, too, keeping him company and allowing Hiro to sleepily crawl over his body.

When his father emerges from the bathroom, he has a towel wrapped around his waist, and his hair is damp and slicked back. Hiro makes a particularly needy noise, and Alistair glances over at the bed.

“You should go back to sleep,” he says, somewhat gently. He goes over to the closet to pick out a suit. “It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”

Hiro sits up and starts to reach around for his phone. He finds it on the floor, next to his pants, and flips it open.

> hey g’morning!!!  
>  Sent at 7:24 a.m.

> do you wanna maybe go to the fine arts museum with me???   
>  Sent at 7:24 a.m.

> you totally don’t have to i just need to do this project and i don’t wanna go by myself like a loser haha :p   
>  Sent at 7:25 a.m.

> this is tadashi btw   
>  Sent at 7:31 a.m.

Hiro finds himself laughing, quietly, to himself. He can hear Tadashi second-guessing himself throughout each text, and the poor idiot is essentially asking him out on a date. How clueless can one person be? No wonder he doesn’t know how the hell to handle his affair with Robert Callaghan. He probably pulls this shit all the time with him: Asking the old geezer out, then acting panicked when Callaghan wants to hold his hand.

The laughter is enough for Alistair to turn back around as he pulls on his pristine, wrinkle-free suit shirt. He can’t recall ever seeing Hiro text someone. It’s not as though his son has any acquaintances outside of Gogo, and Alistair knows Hiro would never privately giggle through a response to the woman. It makes Alistair’s blood boil.

He must be texting Hamada. Meaning, the two have exchanged phone numbers.

Alistair turns back around. He doesn’t know why he can’t let it go. His son is seeing someone he instructed him to see in the first place. He knows all of this is his fault; and, yet, he can’t help but resent everything that has transpired.

He’s not blind. He knows this isn’t about securing Baymax, about following through with Alistair’s wishes. Hiro is clearly enjoying himself. He’s enjoying Hamada, and that was never supposed to be in the cards. They were supposed to dupe the idiot and take his idea to make millions. Everything was supposed to return to normal with just the two of them—together.

Alistair adjusts his tie in the mirror. In the reflection, he catches Hiro behind him, still typing away with a permanent smirk on his face. Alistair wants to snatch the phone and smash it to pieces. Even more so, he’d very much like to fuck Hiro into the mattress again. Apparently, last night wasn’t enough for the little slut to remember to whom he belongs.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he says, curtly, before he exits the bedroom.

Hiro murmurs and nods. He’s too preoccupied with his text conversation to catch what his father just said, but he doubts it’s important.

He agrees to meet Tadashi around ten, then jumps into the shower—only distantly resenting the fact his father didn’t want for him to join earlier—and dresses for the day. Downstairs, his father has brewed coffee and is looking over the newspaper they get delivered to their doorstep every morning.

Hiro plops down on the island stool, opposite of where Alistair is standing in the kitchen. His father seems to be having a difficult time looking at him, much like last night. It’s still pitiful, Hiro thinks, how desperate the man had behaved. He had begged Hiro, over and over as he fucked him, not see Tadashi again.

“You know, coffee doesn’t really cure a hangover,” Hiro says, methodically, as Alistair takes a sip from his mug. He reaches for the coffee percolator and pours himself some. “You should also do something about those circles under your eyes. Honey has good concealer.”

Alistair hums, sarcastically. “Gogo is no longer going to be accompanying you in the mornings, by the way,” he informs Hiro. “They have an access I.D., for you, at the admissions office.”

“Finally, some good news,” Hiro remarks, folding his arms over the countertop.

Hiro’s tiny wrists are bruised, and his lips appear swollen. The sight makes Alistair’s stomach burn. They’re usually rough, but he knows, last night, it was limitless. Alistair remembers wrestling Hiro to the bed, where his son laughed and fought and called him all sorts of demeaning names. He remembers slapping Hiro across the face and watching him moan and beg and rut his body, desperately.

Alistair’s not looking where he puts his hand when he reaches for his mug. He spills his coffee across the countertop, where it floods onto his suit.

“ _Shit_ ,” he curses and jumps to grab a towel. His lap is burning, and Hiro is already laughing, and it sounds like a drill tearing into concrete. He needs to take something for his headache. “Shit!”

“Christ, Dad,” Hiro laughs out. He’s adding milk and about six spoonfuls of sugar to his own cup of coffee. “Are you still drunk?”

Alistair wipes at the counter and floor, but Hiro remains seated. His expression turns expectant. 

“I’m hungry,” he announces. “You didn’t cook dinner, last night. I’m _starving_. I want eggs. Bacon, too.”

Hiro is unbelievable, sometimes. All the time. It is something minor, something as small as a spilled cup of coffee, and he doesn’t offer help. Doesn’t offer condolences, or worry of any kind.

Alistair is reminded of Maemi.

The thought jolts him like lightning, and he freezes. It’s that tilted smirk, those large, alluring eyes that spark with cruelty and manipulation. If Alistair looks hard enough, he knows he’ll see that same disconnect, and this is all so horrendously similar to ten months ago, when he first saw his marriage starting to crumble.

Maemi would flirt all throughout breakfast, only to unveil her day plans that so clearly involved other men. Alistair grabs his mug and roughly drops it into the sink.

“Pour yourself a bowl of cereal,” he grumbles. “I’m already running late, now.”

Alistair goes to the bedroom to change, and Hiro, annoyed, rotates the newspaper so he can glance at the front page. There’s nothing interesting to read, so he turns to the comics.

“You’re no fun when you’re hungover,” Hiro comments when his father returns. “You didn’t even kiss me good morning!”

“Forgive me,” Alistair replies, dryly. “I’m not used to you being up when I leave. You usually sleep until three in the afternoon.”

Hiro pouts and gets up to pour some coffee into Alistair’s travel mug. He drinks it black, so there’s no further work to be done before Hiro screws the top on and places it next to his father’s briefcase. Alistair mutters a thank you but ignores Hiro’s clear desire for attention. His son huffs, then presses against him.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” he breathes out. He slides a hand around Alistair’s thighs and grazes upward. He’s switched from a black suit to a gray one. “No injuries that will affect your… _performance_ , right? I mean, it’s Friday, and I’m really looking forward to staying up nice and late with you.”

Hiro flashes his teeth in a grin. Alistair shifts his weight, and it takes every ounce of strength he has not to wrap his arms around his son.

He loves Hiro. He despises Hiro, too, but he’s so foolishly obsessed with everything that is his son, and it _hurts_. There’s no way out. There’s no winning with Hiro.

He stares at the endearing gap between Hiro’s front teeth, stares at those devilish lips, and the boy’s smile is one of triumph and the knowledge that he’s already won.

Alistair covers the tension with a quick kiss. Seconds later, he’s bowing out of the boy’s space, coffee in hand. He turns, stares at Hiro, and takes in everything about him.

Fucked up and sexed up. A fourteen year-old hustler who has no idea he’s hustling.

“I’ll be home around six,” he says.

Alistair turns and slams the door.

* * *

Hiro has never waited on someone in his entire life. Men wait on _him_ and, quite frankly, it’s sort of insulting to be subjected to such a demeaning activity. He keeps checking his phone, just so it doesn’t look like he’s some pathetic kid who has been stood up in the middle of the afternoon.

The Museum of Fine Arts is bustling with students and old people. Hiro sips at the coffee he brought from home and remembers the first time Alistair brought him to the museum. They were with Maemi. Some kind of fucked up family outing. Maemi hadn’t cared about the art. She was far more interested in the complimentary wine that came with Alistair’s membership, and she spent a majority of the afternoon just sipping at her Moscato and flirting with artsy-looking men. Alistair and Hiro visited the light and electricity exhibit. By then, Hiro had already been trying to seduce Alistair, and he took the alone time as an opportunity to impress his stepfather with his intelligence, his intrigue for learning.

Hiro wonders what his father would think, if he knew he and Tadashi were about to spend the morning together at the museum. Frankly, Hiro is surprised his father hasn’t started having him followed. It’s not like it would matter. Hiro isn’t doing anything wrong, here. Maybe if he _did_ have some goon reporting back, to him, his father would stop being so stupidly jealous and understand that Hiro is just trying to do the job he was assigned.

When Hiro glances up again, he catches sight of Tadashi approaching. He has his phone in his hand and a bagel trapped between his teeth, which is probably the only thing he’ll eat all day.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says after he yanks the bagel from his mouth. “To be honest, I didn’t really expect you to show up.”

Hiro appraises Tadashi’s appearance. He looks far more well-rested than yesterday. A good fuck will do that, to you, Hiro thinks, proudly. 

“I hope you don’t intend to kiss me.” he says. “I hate the taste of cream cheese.”

Tadashi gives a quick laugh before rolling his eyes. “I’m not gonna kiss you, bonehead.”

If Hiro is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. He merely raises his brow with the expectation of further conversation. Something about that gaze has Tadashi blushing, and he rubs the back of his neck, uncertain.

“I am surprised, though,” he emphasizes. “I just didn’t think—”

“Oh, please,” Hiro interrupts; “don’t act coy, now. You wouldn’t have asked, if you didn’t want to hang out with me.”

“You sure?” he asks, still sounding nervous. “I mean, if you’re not going to your internship, you could always hit up your married man.”

Hiro makes a face and thinks back to this morning. “I’d rather not,” he mutters. “He was weird, yesterday. Clingy. What’s with older men, huh? I thought they were supposed to be above that shit. Have you heard from your professor, lately?”

“Sort of,” Tadashi says. He and Robert haven’t talked much since yesterday, and it wasn’t even a finished conversation. The usual texting had ensued. Like Robert was trying to pretend nothing was wrong. “I have class with him, today.”

“If he ever gets super creepy with you, I hope you know you can report him,” Hiro says. His tone is careful—even a bit concerned. It’s well-practiced, and he knows it sounds convincing. “Get his ass fired and everything.”

The issue, Tadashi supposes, is that Robert isn’t being creepy. He’s being the opposite: Avoidant, dismissive. And, Tadashi is starting to learn that he enjoys being chased, which is probably why he can’t seem to forget about Hiro. 

Tadashi finishes his bagel and dusts his hands of crumbs. “I don’t think I could ever report him,” he admits as they walk toward the museum entrance. “That would ruin his career forever.”

“Well, shouldn’t he be close to retirement, anyway? He’s, like, a zillion years-old!”

“Not quite,” Tadashi replies, laughing a bit. 

The museum lobby is large and crowded. Tadashi looks overwhelmed when he grabs one of the maps and starts to head for the ticket line. He asks Hiro if he’s ever visited before, and the boy’s expression grows offended.

“My dad takes me here all the time,” Hiro tells him. “I have a membership. I can get you in for free, you know. Save your stupid student discount for some real food, instead of whatever gross kind of bagel you were shoving down your throat.”

“Oh,” Tadashi manages out. He puts away his wallet and leaves the line. As much as he’d like to deny Hiro’s offer, he’s not about to say no to saving fifteen bucks. “Thanks.”

Hiro offers up his card to the lady working the members only line, all smiles and good manners. It’s silly, Tadashi thinks, but he feels as though he just received some kind of special VIP treatment. Anyone can buy a goddamn museum membership, so it’s not like it’s actually that big of a deal, but Hiro’s attitude certainly makes it seem that way. Tadashi has only been to the museum once, and he found it rather boring. Art isn’t all that interesting, to Tadashi; he only took this class because he needed an additional elective.

Once they’re away from the lobby, Hiro instantly rushes to a Monet painting, which gets its own little room and a blurb about the history. Tadashi thinks Hiro looks even smaller next to the painting, which is of one of Monet’s bridges.

Tadashi looks at the pamphlet the lady gave him and flips to the proper segment. “Impressionism,” Tadashi comments, lightly. “I like this one… But, um, I’m kind of supposed to be researching the sculptures and stuff. Do you know anything about Monet?”

“I know he started the Impressionism movement,” he says. “Did a lot of paintings of his gardens. Probably a fag. My dad likes Monet’s water lily paintings… Then again, I guess everyone does.”

Tadashi has his notebook out, jotting down a few notes before flipping back to his assignment paper. He checks something off, then walks back toward the other line of paintings.

“Alfred Sisley is another decent Impressionist painter,” Hiro then explains, pointing at a meadow landscape. “Actually, I think he’s better than Monet.”

Tadashi knows everyone has heard about Monet, but Sisley is one he hasn’t heard in a while. Aunt Cass has a copy of one of his pieces hanging in the living room. She never remembers the artist, no matter how many times Tadashi playfully reminds her. It’s a memory he remembers, fondly, and it probably shows on his face.

He should really call more than once a week. Cass isn’t much a texter, although he gets plenty of pictures of Mochi throughout the week. The first two months he was away, Cass sent exactly a dozen care packages to his dorm, filled with baked goods, rolls of quarters for laundry and novels she thought he might enjoy. Tadashi sort of wishes, now, that he hadn’t told her (even as gently as he did) that it was getting a bit too much. He misses those abundance of packages. He misses _her_.

Tadashi wonders, when he’s back home and helping his aunt out on the fields, how much he’ll start to miss Robert. Will he miss Hiro, too? It’s a discomforting thought. Tadashi has a distinct feeling Hiro will grow tired of him even before the semester is over.

“Art isn’t really my thing,” Tadashi admits, sheepishly. “I like the old stuff, though. Renaissance and medieval, I mean. Those rooms with the floor to ceiling paintings of mountains and stuff are so awesome.” 

Hiro gives him a look that is, as expected, rather patronizing, but Tadashi thinks he might deserve it, this time around. He knows he sounds silly. 

They keep walking and, eventually, find a rotunda that has a hallway leading to the sculptures. They’re mostly Italian Renaissance sculptors, because that was when they were being made en masse. A lot of them don’t have the greatest artistic quality. 

“I have to find one I like to write an observation about,” Tadashi explains. “I mean, I know I could’ve just looked for something online, but it’s hard to get a feel just through pictures.”

Hiro nods. “Michaelangelo would be the obvious,” he says, pointing to a line of the man’s work. “ _The Rebellious Slave_ is a good piece.”

Hiro looks at the replica, examining the careful craftsmanship in comparison to the photo of the original sculpture that is provided below. The original is in the Louvre, apparently, and is over six feet tall. Tadashi is still jotting down notes but looks up when he gets closer to Hiro.

“It’d be easy to write about because there are a lot of companion pieces,” he then offers. “ _Dying Slave,_ _Bearded Slave_. Etcetera. Plus, they’re just interesting.”

He gives a raised brow at the man, who looks pensive. Tadashi is obviously admiring the art, but his gaze is distracted.

“Michaelangelo is boring, to me,” Tadashi admits. “Nothing, like, against him, or anything. His work just seems… too obvious. I don’t know. I’d rather choose something more obscure.”

“Geez, fine,” Hiro says. “Make it difficult, for yourself.”

Tadashi spends some time walking through the collection. He stops at Donatello’s sculptures and pays particular attention to _Penitent Magdalene._ As he takes out his phone and does some further research, Hiro wanders off in the opposite direction. He likes Surrealism. The museum barely has any, but he still enjoys the few Dali paintings they do have on display. Even his mother was fond of Dali’s bizarre work. Hiro remembers Maemi staring at _The Burning Giraffe_ , wine glass in hand, and commenting about how sad the painting felt.

As Hiro gazes at it, now, he wonders whether his mother saw any of herself in those expressive themes and confused colors. Perhaps she foresaw her fate in Dali’s darker allegories. Hiro stares at another painting— _The Face of War_ —and wonders, morbidly, what his mother’s corpse would look like, now, had it not been thrown into an incinerator. Her urn, pale and plain and impersonal, had sat on their coffee table for exactly four hours before Hiro pried it open with a butter knife, spit inside, and dumped the remains into the trash.

He still remembers how his father stared at him before advancing closer and taking him in his arms. Maybe Alistair thought he needed that comfort. Maybe he expected him to cry.

But, Hiro has never cried for his mother. Not when they received word back from Yama and not when he told Alistair what he wanted to do.

It had been offered up as a joke, initially. Hiro was nipping at his father’s neck, purring out all sorts of seductive words before he pulled away and simply joked that they could _kill her_. It was a statement caught between the dialogue they often rehearsed through their affair. “We can’t keep doing this,” Alistair would gasp; Hiro would giggle and reply, “She doesn’t have to ever find out.”

Weeks later, trapped beneath Alistair, panting and desperate, Hiro realized, with all certainty, that she didn’t deserve them. After years of his mother pinning him on men to get what she wanted, Hiro was pursuing what _he_ wanted.

He had Alistair Krei—but, not all to himself.

“I want her dead,” he had whispered. His hands were sliding up his father’s chest, and his lips were inching closer to the man’s neck. “I want to kill her.”

He remembers trying to cry. He thought, maybe, it would break Alistair’s heart enough to make him say yes to anything. But, those tears never came, and Hiro only stared up at his father, cold and certain and _serious_. Alistair allowed the passionate whirlwind to drown out the fear, but it hadn’t changed the agreement. He wanted her gone, too.

It became more than just a frivolous joke between giggling lovers. The plan started to move and advance. Hiro was the one with the connections; Alistair had the money. The yakuza had never really forgotten Maemi Takachiho. She had spent a good three, four years playing with the hearts of their most prominent members, draining them of cash and disappearing without a trace. Finding Yama hadn’t been difficult. Hiro remembers holding those stacks of bills in his hand, which smelt fresh and crisp and promising, and telling Yama what he wanted.

“That’s pretty rough, kid,” he had said, slamming down his glass of bourbon. “She’s a crook, but she don’t seem that bad. You sure?”

Hiro hadn’t hesitated. “I need her gone,” he had replied; “and, I want it done fast.”

There wasn’t fear involved, nor remorse. There still isn’t. Alistair might be scared, but Hiro knows his father doesn’t regret it. How could he? Regardless of their affair, Maemi needed to be gone. She would’ve done nothing but empty his pockets and make a fool out of him. Some tabloid, somewhere, would’ve gotten wind of her affairs with other rich men. Instead, they were able to write off Maemi’s passing as a tragedy. It only served to make Alistair Krei look sympathetic in the public eye.

“There you are.”

Tadashi finds Hiro staring at the Dali paintings. He looks hypnotized, and Tadashi regrets interrupting the boy’s thoughts because he almost looked peaceful. Tadashi has never seen that expression on Hiro before. He looks up at the painting—one of which is quite disturbing and unappealing, to Tadashi—and wonders what could have possibly had Hiro looking so tranquil.

“Find something worth writing about?” Hiro asks. He glances at Tadashi’s notepad. All scribbles; very illegible.

“Yeah, I think I’m going with Donatello,” Tadashi tells him. “You like Dali?”

Hiro hums, thoughtfully, but only gives a quiet response. “Yeah,” he says.

Tadashi considers asking him if there’s something wrong, but he doesn’t want to risk falling back into arguments and patronizing remarks. This morning is starting to feel like a real connection. Tadashi is surprised they’re even holding a conversation, considering their “just sex” agreement. This doesn’t feel like just sex. Tadashi knows he feels something for Hiro, but he assumed it was infatuation, or fascination. 

“You seem really interested in this stuff,” he states. “I mean, I’m not surprised, because I know you’re smart, but why do you talk about sex and men so much?”

Because Hiro seems to default to sex, no matter what, and fighting turns him on. Well, everything probably turns Hiro on… But, not this; it feels like, for the first time, Tadashi stepped out of the porno that is their relationship.

“Sex is more interesting, obviously,” Hiro explains with a scoff. “I like art and science and everything, but I’d much rather be getting fucked than wasting my time rehashing everything I already know. My mother taught me that.”

Tadashi averts his gaze as he slides his notepad back into his bag. “Yeah, it sounds like she was quite the character,” he replies. “She was really pretty. I saw some pictures of her when I was, uh—researching you. You look just like her. She probably could’ve been a model, or something.”

Hiro laughs. “Or, _something_ ,” he concludes, deadpanned. “I guess I should probably thank her for being so terrible, because I never would’ve ended up being Alistair Krei’s stepson had she been normal.”

There’s something sympathetic written across Tadashi’s features. Sad.

“She used to make me do her dirty work,” he explains. “When she couldn’t get what she wanted from men, she’d make me do it, for her. And, now look: I can get men to do practically anything I want. That includes you, Hamada.”

At first, Tadashi is confused. He almost laughs alongside Hiro, who has plopped himself down on one of the couches. But, then, he understands the implications of Hiro’s words, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

His mother sold him out. Sold _him._ All in one moment, it explains so much about Hiro’s demeanor, his actions: The way he makes eye contact and bats his lashes, smiles and pushes himself against Tadashi. Those are learned behaviors. Tadashi had already suspected some form of abuse Hiro’s past, but he never considered something this extreme.

How long did it go on? How many men? Does his father know? Would he even _care_?

Tadashi stumbles over his words. “Fuck—Hiro, shit, are you okay?” It sounds so stupid, and Tadashi cringes and stares down at Hiro—a child, _a child, a child, a child_ —and feels himself want to lurch. “Jesus. I’m—I’m sorry, Hiro.”

Hiro stares back and wonders if that apology is more for Tadashi than anyone else. He gives an unimpressed expression and turns back to look at Dali’s painting.

“I am,” Tadashi quickly amends. “Christ, Hiro, I can’t even imagine.”

Hiro’s a sexual assault victim, and he doesn’t even seem to acknowledge it. This _thing_ between them is probably the most normal sexual relationship Hiro’s ever been in, yet exploiting him is still a very real possibility. It terrifies Tadashi. Hiro must not even know what it’s like to trust a man. Maybe he did tell Krei. Maybe his father simply didn’t believe him.

“Does your dad know?”

And, he’s careful when he reads Hiro’s expression. There’s some uncertainty balancing there, but he doesn’t miss a beat before he crosses his legs and speaks.

“He knows,” Hiro admits, but it’s careful. “Sort of. I’ve skimped on the details. Let’s just say he wasn’t very fond of my mother, either, once he found out.”

It’s more implication than he intends, but Tadashi is too distracted to catch it, and he takes a seat next to Hiro, exhaling.

“Then, does he know what you’re doing, now, with… men?”

Hiro scoffs. “Listen, I like my father,” he decides to tell him, pointedly. “He’s sort of pathetic, which explains why the hell he married my mom; but, he’s not this evil demon that your boyfriend seems to think. I—I like my life with him. We have a good arrangement.”

Hiro thinks, really, he might mean that. He’s not used to people asking questions about his life, about his mom, and it’s been habitual not to focus on those things, either. But, Hiro does feel as though his relationship with his father is their own version of normal. Alistair long gave up deciphering what kind of fucked up situation the two of them shared when Hiro divulged his plan of hiring Yama. It’s been working, for them. At least it had been, up until recently. 

“Don’t work yourself up about it,” Hiro assures. “You have all those gross old men to thank for that amazing blowjob I gave you.”

Tadashi closes his eyes. As much as he values this conversation and Hiro opening up, to him, it’s difficult to hear those detached words. It’s painful, disturbing, and he doesn’t want to try and dissect Hiro’s mind, because he knows he can’t. That’s a job for a therapist, and Tadashi isn’t qualified.

“I guess it’s your business,” he offers, solemnly. “I don’t want to tell you that your dad needs to do something about—all that. Let’s talk about something else, okay? Uh, what high school did you go to?”

Hiro laughs. “San Fran West,” he replies. “I graduated last year. Around the time my mom married Alistair.”

It sounds weird, saying his stepfather’s name to Tadashi. The older man is trying to be inconspicuous with his stare, but it’s massively obvious. He almost feels interrogated like he does when Alistair asks too many questions. Even just asking about Hiro’s day seems to be laced with pestering, with a need to remind Hiro how he is wasting his gift.

“I know what you’re gonna say," Hiro then continues, brow raised. “You’re gonna ask why I’m not going to college. Don’t waste your time. My dad hounds me about it every other month. I’m just not interested. I’m set for life. You could be, too—if you took my father’s offer.”

At that, Tadashi stands back up and curses, quietly, to himself. Of course Hiro managed to find his way back to _that_ conversation.

“I don’t care about money,” he says, but Hiro doesn’t look convinced. “I mean, I do, because I’d love to pay off my aunt’s house; but, we manage. I manage. I don’t need anything more than what I already have.”

“You could still go to SFIT, you know,” Hiro reminds him. “You don’t have to drop out just because you’re a millionaire.”

It’s same, old song and dance. Tadashi hates that he’s even remotely surprised. But, it hurts. It hurts because Tadashi thought, maybe, they were at least connecting as friends. That’s clearly not the case. Hiro has defaulted right back to trying to get Tadashi to sign that contract.

He’s not special, to Hiro. Tadashi knows he’s another game for Hiro to play, to exploit. Last night, Hiro probably met with his married man, laughed all about “this dumb college kid” and proceeded to have wild, hot sex. Despite Hiro’s jacket, Tadashi hasn’t missed the marks on the boy’s wrists. It doesn’t ignite the jealousy he previously felt; all it does it make Tadashi sad.

“I should get going,” Tadashi sighs out. He looks at his wristwatch—cringing when he stares too long at the Krei Tech logo—then, glances back up at Hiro. “I have class in an hour.”

Hiro hops up from the couch. “Ah, yes, with Robert Callaghan himself!” he chirps. “Any _hot_ plans with your beau over the weekend?”

He’s been trying not to think about it. Much like everything else in his life, right now. Tadashi almost wants to skip, just to see whether Robert will bother to call or text. He’s afraid of finding out.

“You ought to tell him all about your first experience topping. He’ll be so proud, I’m sure.”

Tadashi gives a dry laugh. “I’m sure he’d have a lot to say about it,” he says. 

“I thought you were great, ’Dashi,” Hiro then purrs out. He grabs Tadashi’s forearm and pulls himself close as they start to walk out of the museum. “That big cock of yours is too good _not_ to be buried inside a nice, tight ass.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Tadashi drones. “I wasn’t adverse to it. You made all these cute noises, and I enjoyed watching you squirm.”

Hiro balks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” 

Hiro looks insulted, and Tadashi laughs. He didn’t mean for it to sound like such a cutting remark, but the fact still stands. It’s easier not to dwell on what Hiro has revealed, to him, when the boy is making a sourpuss face and acting like some sort of diva. As tragic as Tadashi finds the explanation for Hiro’s promiscuity, the intrigue hasn’t faded. There’s strength underlying the pain. How many other kids have been forced to look inside themselves with the same level of intensity and candor? Hiro is honest about himself, his desires. It’s a coping mechanism, but it’s still more than Tadashi has ever done for himself.

Hiro slinks away from Tadashi and skips down the museum steps. Tadashi follows at a much slower pace, hands slid inside his jean pockets. He wishes he could spend an entire day just observing Hiro and trying to understand more about him.

“My dad and your pervy professor know each other,” Hiro eventually says, and he doesn’t know why he brings it up, now, because it’s not exactly the time, or place, but it’s still weighing heavy on the boy’s mind. “I mean, you probably knew that. I think I always knew that, because—well, why wouldn’t they know each other in the robotics field? But, my dad won’t talk about it.”

Tadashi waits until he catches up, to Hiro, to answer. “Yeah,” he says; “I know. Robert has been sort of weird about it, too. It sounds complicated. I’m not sure I want to know.”

Hiro shrugs. “It probably means your professor isn’t as squeaky clean as you think.”

“Or, maybe your dad stole something from him,” Tadashi says.

It’s possible, Hiro thinks. Alistair has always been about the end justifying the means, and Hiro honestly doesn’t know much about how Krei Tech was built up from practically nothing. Hiro has never given much thought beyond the company’s public history. It’s easy to forget those details when knowing the Krei family already had generations of wealth and fame.

“Could be something seedier,” Hiro then theorizes, but he immediately laughs, afterward. “Maybe your professor had a big, fat crush on him.”

Hiro turns to catch what he’s certain will be shared laughter. But, Tadashi isn’t even paying attention, now. He’s stopped in front of a newsstand and is staring, curiously, at one of the magazines. Hiro backtracks a few steps and turns to look at what has taught Tadashi’s eye. 

It’s a tabloid magazine. The front cover does not have Tadashi’s interest, however. It’s the smaller photo on the front page, one that is very clearly of Hiro and Alistair at a restaurant.

“Is it weird to see yourself on magazines like this?” Tadashi asks. He picks up the tabloid and leafs through the pages. 

Hiro frowns. “It’s more annoying than anything else,” he assesses, stretching to look at the magazine closer. “The paparazzi are way too obsessed with my dad. Like, who fucking cares where we eat?”

The photo is from a few days ago, when Alistair took him out to brunch. It’s a flattering photo of them both. Hiro is leaning against the table, eyes half-lidded as his father smiles back at him, mimosa in one hand. For the briefest second, he is sentimental; he thinks about the comfort of their arrangement and how, when Alistair gets home tonight, they will fall into the same routine of desperate hands and hushed dirty talk. They have a world all their own, behind closed doors.

He glances back up at Tadashi, who is scrutinizing the article, the photo. Tadashi can tell the article within the magazine is rehashed, but that isn’t what has him so preoccupied.

No. It’s the name of the restaurant, Soma. The drink in Alistair’s hand, a mimosa. The smile on Hiro’s face, so bright and genuine. Happy. Like he’s with someone to whom he’s irrevocably close—and, not just a father, or a stepfather.

_Soma…_

It could be a coincidence.

But, knowing Hiro, it’s probably not. 

His heart skips a beat. Hiro has never explained any details about his elusive married man’s life. Never given a name, a description, _anything_. And, Alistair Krei has been married. He has clearly never taken the time to ask where his son goes, or why he has bruises all over his neck.

Maybe that’s because he made them.

“You must think it’s weird,” Hiro says, grabbing the magazine out of Tadashi’s hands. “The fact I have a relationship with my stepfather, I mean. I guess it doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering my mom just used him for his money. He should resent me. _Hm_ , but I don’t know. I never had a father, and it’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

Hiro returns the trashy magazine to its shelf, placing it backward and continuing to walk.

Tadashi doesn’t follow. 

“Tadashi?” Hiro calls out.

He stops again. There is something suddenly very different in the atmosphere, now.

“Hiro, I… You’re—?”

It’s Tadashi’s expression that gives it away, for Hiro. All that once, it’s hitting him, and there’s a flash of fear in his eyes. Tadashi catches it. Shock, then panic inflames Tadashi. He is sure the color has drained from his face.

“I need to go, Hiro.”

Hiro narrows his gaze. His chest has tightened, and he recalls a string of words from his father, just last night—“He can’t ever, _ever_ know about us,” he had said—and, the wave Hiro always thought would be riveting to crash down upon him suddenly feels very lethal, and it’s definitely not humorous.

“Wait, Tadashi,” he rushes out, but it only sounds more incriminating.

He can fix this, he thinks. Whatever Tadashi is thinking, right now, can still be altered. Hiro puts on an easy enough smile and pulls the older man back toward him.

“You said you had an hour,” he says, smoothly. “Come on.”

Tadashi stiffens, then clutches onto the fabric of Hiro’s jacket. He can’t find the strength to speak, because Hiro is still playing his designated role. The boy has barely missed a beat before returning to seductive suggestions and heavy glances.

He’s just a _kid._ And, now, that photograph of Hiro and Alistair is imprinted onto Tadashi’s memory. No child should ever look at their parent like that. No parent should ever allow it, encourage it, _want_ it.

When the man’s eyes fall shut, Hiro is certain he has achieved the intended distraction. He giggles, lightly, and starts to push onto his tip-toes. His lips graze Tadashi’s chin.

“Think about all the _fun_ we could have, ’Dashi.”

Tadashi heaves. “No,” he says. He rips himself away from Hiro, because he’s the one who has been holding onto that frail, tiny arm. “I have to go, Hiro. I’m sorry.”

Hiro feels as though he’s shrinking when Tadashi crosses the unlit walkway. Even against the asphalt, Tadashi’s footsteps seem soundless. Hiro just stares. He forgets to speak, to call out, to once more try before he feels a piece of his world start to crack.

And, suddenly, he’s scared.

* * *

Alistair doesn’t reach for his phone when it goes off.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to know.

His head hasn’t stopped pounding all day, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s still suffering the consequences of his hangover, or if he’s simply too overcome with the fear of what his son is doing, right now, with Tadashi Hamada.

This morning, Hiro’s touch had felt spiteful. Alistair can barely recognize sincerity within his son, except when it relates to sex, and it makes him nearly impossible read, because so much about Hiro is driven by sex and lust. He knows, deep down, had he suggested they stay home and spend their day in bed with one another, Hiro would’ve said yes. He knows Hiro _wanted_ that goodbye kiss Alistair gave him. But, Hiro also wants Tadashi. In what way and form, Alistair cannot decipher; but, the desire is real, and it makes his skin crawl. Even more so, it makes him want to lock Hiro in the penthouse until his only conscious thought is that of his stepfather. 

It’s about as cruel as Hiro’s mind games, he thinks, and he wonders what is so inherently wrong with him that he keeps finding himself in this cycle. He can’t think of Robert without feeling that sharp stabbing in his chest. He can’t think about Maemi without feeling every ounce of resentment and guilt and uncontrollable _agony_ for her existence and what she did to Hiro.

And, now, there’s Hiro; the boy Alistair can’t think about without wanting to fall apart.

Everything about Hiro hurts. It won’t last. It _can’t_ , and Alistair can’t control that.

_Why?_

His desk intercom buzzes, and Alistair pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his composure as he presses down to respond.

“Yes?” he says, tightly.

“Mr. Krei?” the meek voice of his secretary calls out. “Um, Honey just notified me from downstairs that your son is coming up. Should I let him in?”

Alistair forgets the ache in his temples and grabs at his phone to read the hour-old message.

> hamada is a piece of shit!!! im coming to see u   
>  Sent at 12:21 p.m.

“Yes,” he rushes out. “Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

They disconnect, and Alistair starts typing out a response until he remembers Hiro is already in the building. He backspaces and places down his phone, _breathes_.

Maybe the two of them got into a fight? It’s possible. Hiro is a little too emotional over this whole thing, and Alistair knows it’s because he cares too much, which is ridiculous. There’s no need to get so invested in someone so absolutely useless.

Minutes later, Alistair stands when he hears the door push open. Hiro has never bothered to knock, and Alistair doesn’t mind, especially not right now, when his son is sulking and offering up none of his usual jovial greetings.

“Come here,” Alistair says, once the door is closed. He beckons Hiro into his arms, and the boy pushes himself so firmly against his father that, when he pulls away, there’s a pattern of wrinkles folded into Alistair’s shirt. “Now, what has you so upset, _hm_?”

“He’s an idiot,” Hiro declares. “And, he’s mean. He’s the epitome of a lonely, stupid fag, and I shouldn’t have wasted my time with him.”

He gives his father a desperate look, one that tells the man he’d very much like to be coddled like a spoiled child. Alistair hesitates. His gaze is careful; but, after another pout from Hiro, lips puffed and eyes wide, the man finally moves. He guides Hiro back over to his desk, where he sits and motions for his son to climb into his lap.

Like always, Hiro feels lanky and tiny. Alistair senses this must be some kind of genuine rejection showing because Hiro almost never cares this much about anything. He’s uncomfortable, almost, by how much Hiro is expressing himself.

Surely, this shouldn’t be such a big deal.

“Tell me,” Alistair urges. He kisses Hiro’s forehead, then rubs at his back. “Did he ignore one of your advances?”

Hiro furrows his brow and drops his gaze. He almost wants to be insulted, except he really fucking wishes it were as simple as that. He sighs and pushes his face into Alistair’s neck so that he doesn’t have to concentrate on anything else except his father’s warmth, his cologne.

He doesn’t even know how to form the proper words to explain everything. The fear is twisting itself into rage, and he’s always had hard time translating his anger into something other than sexual energy. He’d really love to get fucked, right now. Held down and used, thoroughly. He pictures how Alistair would grab at his bruised wrists, tell him how foolish he has been and how all that jealousy and rage would spill from him.

Hiro is never going to see that kind of dominance from Tadashi, and not because the man is incapable. They’re through. They have to be, Hiro thinks. Tadashi knows too much, and Hiro cannot continue to tread a dangerous path by convincing the man to sign with Krei Tech. If he attempts to push any further, Tadashi could very well report Alistair.

“It’s not that,” Hiro whispers.

Alistair continues to hold him, and they stay like that, with Hiro on top of him, both breathing in silence. The oppressive, invisible knowledge that there’s something more hangs in the air.

Hiro’s resolve only breaks when he feels Alistair’s lips on his forehead. He’s scared. But, he is also mad. How dare Tadashi? It’s none of his fucking business what he and Alistair are doing. Hiro pulls back from his father, eyes locking with his as he attempts to keep himself together.

“I think he knows,” he says. Alistair stiffens, and his expression grows dark. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen. He saw us on one of those fuckin’ trashy tabloids, and I think he figured it out.”

“How? Are you—sure?” Alistair stutters out.

Hiro frowns. “No,” he admits. “That’s why I’m… _Fuck_ , Dad, he freaked out. He wouldn’t even talk, to me. I don’t know if I should even see him again.”

It’s not what Alistair expects Hiro to say. Just yesterday, the boy practically declared nothing was going to stop him for continuing to see his precious Hamada. This morning, Hiro was still playing his games, convincing Alistair, yet again, that the boy’s humanity didn’t even exist in any real, comprehendible sense.

Alistair, stiff and uncertain, holds Hiro with a locked grip. He refuses to believe Hamada is smart enough to figure their relationship out. They’ve been so careful, and Hamada has only just stepped onto the stage. If he suspects, there’s no way he’d be able to bring it up without sounding like a suspicious idiot. Even if he goes crying to his professor, Robert wouldn’t believe it. Robert knows Alistair’s not… like _that_. It’s just Hiro. It’s only ever been Hiro.

His heart pounds. Alistair knows Hiro is stressed, right now. It shows in how he’s regressing into an even needier child. They could temporarily fix this with rushed, hurried sex, but Alistair can’t even entertain that thought, right now. He’s too scared, and it makes it even worse to know that Hiro is scared, too.

He’d be over. In jail, until he pays his way out; and, then, he’d be a lost, broken man. No money to speak of once he’s spent it all getting out of this mess. No way to get another job, and certainly no way to build back his empire.

Hiro would be gone. Alistair’s chest closes in at the thought, lungs nearly collapsing. Hiro would be shipped off to an orphanage and, at his age, he’d never get adopted. It’s far more likely he’d escape, run away to the streets, and fall into the same life Maemi led.

Alistair can’t let this happen. He can’t let Hamada ruin everything he’s created, everything he’s built. That useless college student is worth exactly as much as the used condoms Robert so insists on utilizing.

“It’ll be okay, Hiro,” Alistair tells Hiro, quietly. His voice is stronger than he anticipated. “Don’t worry about it, okay? He won’t tell. He won’t say a single thing.”

He gazes back at his father and tries to read his expression. “You’re not—planning to do something, are you?” Hiro asks.

“No,” Alistair answers, honestly. He’d love to get rid of Tadashi, once and for all, but it’s an extreme Alistair does not wish to revisit. They can handle this in other ways. “That’s unnecessary.”

Hiro thinks about it, though. If Tadashi just up and disappeared, would he be upset? Sad? The answer should be no. When was the last time Hiro actually cared about anyone? Why should he even care about Tadashi? Yet, there’s dread within in him at the notion of never seeing him again. Even right now, caught up in all his anger for the man, Hiro still thinks he might like a small part of Tadashi. In a weird, manipulative, exploitative way. 

Hiro could try trapping the man again, seducing him into silence. He could do it. Tadashi has already proven he wants Hiro beyond that simple fuck in the lab, and Hiro could even play the sympathy card. Proclaim some wild adoration for Tadashi, beg for comfort. Tadashi would fall for that in a _snap_.

“He’s still into me,” he points out. “I could fix this—maybe even still get Baymax.” 

It’s not said with the desperation Alistair heard, last night. Hiro is speaking calmly, and it’s clear his focus is on keeping Tadashi Hamada silent, too.

“I don’t want you near him,” he tells Hiro. “I’ll deal with Hamada. I’ll fix this, for us.”

Like a father should.

“Go home,” he says, putting Hiro at arm’s length. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Hiro doesn’t want to go; he wants to stay with his father, right now. He wants Alistair to hold him and continue to assure him everything will be all right. Alistair said it himself, just a week ago, how Hiro can’t trust being with anyone else. Maybe he was right. No one else would understand him. They only have each other.

“Okay,” he agrees, nodding and leaning closer. He offers a soft but familiar enough smirk. “It is Friday, Daddy. We’re going to have fun, right?”

Alistair allows the flirting, the subsequent touch to his chest. He smiles back at his son and says, “Always.”

* * *

Tadashi makes sure he leaves his dorm fifteen minutes early.

He hasn’t gotten any work done. He hasn’t even started his art project, because none of that matters, right now. 

He needs to talk to Robert. He needs to tell someone and, as strained as their relationship has been in the past few weeks, Robert will support Tadashi, calm him down. Robert knows Alistair Krei, after all. Maybe he can assure Tadashi his suspicions are insane.

But, they don’t feel insane. In fact, they feel terribly, horrifically plausible.

He’s shaking by the time he reaches the lecture hall. Robert is sitting at his desk, shuffling papers around and tapping his foot against the swivel chair. He doesn’t realize Tadashi is there until the younger man shuts the classroom door.

“Oh, Tadashi,” he greets. He even smiles, although it’s uneasy. Nervous. “I—was hoping we’d get a chance to speak before or after class.”

Tadashi slowly approaches Robert, although he can’t seem to keep his hands steady. He just bites his lip and waits for his professor to notice something is wrong.

“Tadashi?” he repeats. He stands from his desk. “Are you all right?”

“I saw Hiro today,” he croaks out, and he knows it’s not what Robert wants to talk about, but this is far more important than any issues their superficial relationship is facing. “Shit, Robert… I think—?”

Robert stands and reaches out to grab Tadashi’s hands. He steadies them and starts to caress his skin. “Did he do something?” he asks. “Did he make you uncomfortable?”

“What? No!” Tadashi sharply replies. He cringes and feels insulted Robert is already putting the blame on Hiro. “ _God_ , Robert, it has nothing to do with— _whatever_. I think someone is hurting him. I don’t know what to do.”

Tadashi tries to keep his focus, but it’s difficult. Maybe it’s not his place to reveal the whole story. Especially if Robert is already staring back at him like the prospect of Hiro in peril is the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. What would Robert say, if Tadashi explained what Maemi did?

“You mean, the affair he’s having,” Robert acknowledges. He raises his brow for emphasis, and Tadashi’s spine heats up. “I thought he was quite the willing participant, from what you’ve told me.”

“He’s fourteen, Robert. He can’t be a willing participant.”

Robert clamps his mouth shut before he can respond, but he gives Tadashi a look that remains skeptical. Judgmental, even, and Tadashi doesn’t want to hear his opinion. Tadashi’s relationship with Hiro isn’t the same as some kind of fucked up affair Hiro has going on with his stepfather. He feels cold. He can’t believe Robert is being so dismissive.

“It’s not his fault he behaves the way he does,” Tadashi calmly states. He tears away from Robert’s touch and moves around the desk. He needs distance. “Since when did you not care about stuff like this? About _children_?”

Even if Hiro is, fundamentally, an immoral person, he’s still just a kid who’s getting hurt. He doesn’t deserve to be manipulated by his father; he certainly never deserved to be forced to sleep with men by his mother’s command. _Christ_. When did Maemi make him start? How long has he been forced to be sexually active with men who are double, triple his age?

“I’m—sorry, Tadashi.”

He can’t tell whether the younger man is about to cry or burst into rage. Tadashi probably doesn’t know, either. The other night, Robert could already sense something had already transpired between Tadashi and Hiro; and, now, it’s even easier to read than one would expect. He could always read it on Alistair. _You just know_. And, Robert is not Tadashi’s boyfriend, his partner, but he can see a sense of embarrassment flickering through the man’s eyes when Robert meets his gaze again.

He’s been intimate with someone else. Robert’s touch is no longer the only one he knows. It might not even be the one he wants anymore. 

“What changed?” Robert decides to ask. “Did Hiro and his lover get into an argument? Did he tell you something about the man?”

Tadashi isn’t looking at Robert, now. He’s suddenly feels too cowardly to even say it. He’s too afraid, now, to hear Robert’s response. This isn’t how he envisioned the conversation going. He thought Robert would console him, tell him what to do. Instead, he’s already making accusations.

“It’s really fucked up,” he whispers, and he laughs, humorlessly.

He’s also starting to realize he might not be able to tell Robert what’s wrong without authorities getting involved, and he doesn’t want to do that to Hiro. The stress, the fear—it would overwhelm Hiro, and he doesn’t deserve that, right now.

But, should the authorities get involved? Is it worth it to orphan Hiro, just to protect him? Tadashi knows what it’s like to not have parents. He wonders if he’d be just as complacent with the situation, if he were in Hiro’s position, just to have some sort of guardian figure.

“The guy’s, like, in his forties, and Hiro doesn’t even act like he’s afraid of him. It’s all so _normal_ , for him. I just—I need to do something about it, Robert.”

“Like what?” he asks. “Are you thinking about going to his father?”

Tadashi closes his eyes and inhales, sharply. “I don’t know.”

Robert has never seen Tadashi upset like this before. Come to think of it, Robert hasn’t seen a lot of the emotions Hiro has managed to elicit from him. Tadashi is a caring, giving person. It’s why he’s been so determined to perfect Baymax and allow such a revolutionary invention to take up so much of his time. But, Robert has never had the opportunity to witness him behave so selflessly. Tadashi hasn’t made many friends at SFIT. He has acquaintances and everyone likes him, but he’s too wrapped up in his work, in school. Hiro is the first person with whom Robert has seen Tadashi bond. His relationship with the child has severely sidetracked Tadashi on pretty much every aspect of his life, and it worries Robert.

Hiro feels toxic. Robert doesn’t see the child as someone who needs help. He’s only proven to be manipulative and dangerous. A perfect match, really, for his father.

And, suddenly, he’s back to that again. Those disturbing suspicions, and the equally troubling doubts. Robert can’t seem to decipher between his resentment toward Alistair and his blinded, unchanged belief of the good that lies _somewhere_ in that cold, selfish heart.

Although Robert hesitates with his next words, they remain crafted. “Have you considered,” he says; “that, maybe, his father already knows?”

Tadashi’s worried eyes shoot back up toward Robert and there’s a flash of uncertainty that settles into a very paralyzed concentration. He stares. Gapes. Before Tadashi even suspected anything, he knew, deep down, that Krei must’ve been aware of Hiro’s tendencies. It’s impossible to miss them.

But, at Robert’s words, something breaks in Tadashi’s expression.

“I used to think I knew Alistair Krei better than anybody,” Robert explains, and Tadashi feels his shoulders drop as his mind starts to neatly put everything into place. “I had every reason to believe he was a good person, someone to trust.”

“Were you—?” Tadashi’s voice rattles. “Were you involved with him?”

 _God._ It makes too much sense. It’s why Robert didn’t want him making the deal. Why he has such a hard time caring about Hiro, and why he wants to leave both of them alone.

And, right now, they both know what the other is thinking about Hiro.

“It was a little more than that,” Robert elaborates. He’s embarrassed, ashamed. “A lot more.”

Tadashi narrows his eyes and finds himself reviewing everything in his mind, trying to see how he could have possibly missed it, how he was so aloof that he didn’t even feel the need to dismiss it as his overactive imagination.

“We shared a life together,” he continues, voice strained. It’s been decades since he’s spoken about this, to anyone. Sometimes, it feels like another lifetime. “For a very long time, I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. It certainly felt that way.”

But, things got complicated. Alistair wanted fame and fortune. He had a family legacy to live up to, and he wasn’t getting anywhere in the robotics field. Robert had wanted them to start a small business together, but Alistair refused. It would be too obvious, he said; people would know about them, and Alistair didn’t want to come out. It would ruin his family, his future. It wasn’t Robert’s place to push, but he did; and, the longer things went on, the harder it became for Alistair to even admit he wanted a life with him.

“What happened, then?” Tadashi question; interrogates, really.

Robert hesitates. He’s never told anyone the ugly truth. Not even Abigail, who had hounded him about the breakup, the devastation that swarmed her father. It was too humiliating to tell. Even now, buried deep and far and nearly forgotten, Robert can’t string together the real explanation. 

“Alistair valued his reputation over everything, and his family legacy took precedence over his own happiness,” he attempts. It’s a very simplified version, abridged in every regard. “Twenty years ago, he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere as a gay businessman. I was already out, and we knew he was risking everything by being with me. Our relationship was a secret. Barely anyone knew that we knew each other, let alone lived together.”

Tadashi runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head and trying not to fall apart, now. But, he’s losing patience, sympathy. Robert’s tale of lost love feels misplaced amongst the greater issue, here.

“His marriage to Hiro’s mother was a farce,” he tells Tadashi. “Of course, the media didn’t see it that way. No one did. And, up until you ever encountered Hiro, I assumed he was keeping him around for his reputation’s purpose. But, the more you tell me about Hiro’s behavior, the more I think—”

Robert stops. He closes his eyes and finds the ability to breathe.

“I can sense they’re not normal.”

Tadashi loses it. Tears build up and roll down his cheeks when he blinks. He’s not even sure why. He was never traumatized as a child. He’s never had siblings to project onto Hiro. Psychologically, it doesn’t make sense for him to care about this to such a great intent, and he hates the idea that, maybe, he’s starting to care for Hiro more than either of them want to admit.

Alistair Krei is sleeping with his son.

It’s startling. Disgusting. Just as disgusting as the jealousy that sparks through Tadashi. He can’t tell which feeling is stronger. He’s shaking from the dichotomy of it.

He slams his hands on the desk and hisses. “I’m going to beat the shitout of him,” he snarls. “That fucking—that fucking _pedophile_.”

“Tadashi,” he calls out, trying to calm him. He moves around the desk and grabs the man’s hands again. “Please… Don’t do anything rash. We could be imagining things, after all.”

Except, that’s really fucking doubtful, and Tadashi gives him a look through his tears that tell him just that. To Robert, however, it still doesn’t add up. Not the way he’d like it to, when it comes to Alistair Krei. There’s still a piece of the puzzle missing.

“It’s just—difficult, I guess, for me to fully process,” Robert admits, softly. “He was never that way when we were together. Into… children, I mean. At least, he never gave me any indication of it. Not that people do, but I knew him better than anyone.”

But, even that wasn’t enough for Robert to ever predict how Alistair would backstab him, rob him, leave him without ever saying goodbye. In reality, Robert considers he may never have known the real Alistair Krei, at all.

“No,” Tadashi sneers. He doesn’t like Robert’s tone, his continual dismissal for Hiro. “You said it yourself: He values his reputation, above all. I bet it wouldn’t be that stellar if the press found out what he’s been doing to his own son.”

“There’s no need—”

“Are you really trying to _protect_ him?” Tadashi yells. “You’re the one who practically had a campaign against him!”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” he argues. “I just think we need to take some time and figure this out, for ourselves.”

Tadashi steps away, far enough so that Robert can’t stop him. “No. I don’t care if you need to _process_ this, Robert,” he tells him. “I care about Hiro, and he needs help. He can’t continue to be near that freak.”

Just as Tadashi is turning to leave, a group of students open the classroom door. He pushes past them and rushes out into the hall, ignoring the stares, the whispers.

* * *

Honey Lemon pulls her purse onto her shoulder and feels herself blushing, deeply, when Gogo emerges from the large elevator. They have a big evening planned. Dinner, a movie—and, the growing anticipation of which apartment they will wind up at for the duration of the weekend. Gogo has that tilted smirk on his lips as she approaches the counter. She leans over, kissing her girlfriend in what is a rare opportunity of the empty Krei Tech lobby.

“Glad to see work didn’t keep you!” Honey greets. She pushes in her chair and makes her way around the counter. “Oh, I’m so excited about dinner! Mr. Krei actually recommended it, to me.”

“Did he?” Gogo muses. “I’m sure it’ll be very nice, then. Did you see him leave?”

“No,” Honey replies; “but, Hiro came by a little while ago! Oh, he was wearing the cutest little jacket. He seemed rather sad, though.”

Gogo raises a brow. She’s not surprised to learn about Hiro’s appearance, but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen Hiro sad. Just annoyed and upset about having to do something inconvenient.

She’s about to text her boss to ask for confirmation on the latest email she forwarded him, but she glances up upon hearing the elevator doors open. Alistair has his phone in his hand and is too preoccupied to even notice either of them, at first.

“Oh,” he says when he looks up. He glances outside the large windows to confirm his ride is there. “Hello, ladies.”

Ever polite, Honey waves at her boss and stands beside Gogo, mostly quiet beyond her greeting. Gogo crosses her arms and gives Alistair a once-over.

“You must be awfully proud of yourself,” she says. Her tone is somehow both flat and amused. “Tell your son congratulations, I guess.”

Alistair stuffs his phone into his suit pocket. “What ever are you talking about, Miss Tomago?”

“Didn’t you check your email?” she asks. “You were just on your phone.”

Alistair looks outside the window again and sees his driver. He tries to appear patient. “I’m in a bit of hurry to get home,” he explains.

“He’s agreed to a meeting, Krei,” Gogo says, pointedly. “Hamada wants to see you on Monday.”


	6. Chapter 6

Hiro has been clingy, all weekend.

He’s barely left Alistair’s side, which isn’t entirely unusual, since they tend to spend most of their early mornings in bed together. But, Hiro has made a point to follow his father everywhere throughout the duration of Saturday and Sunday. The shower, the office den, the living room, the kitchen. It’s as though the boy is afraid to leave Alistair alone; or, perhaps, Hiro is afraid to be _left_ alone.

He hasn’t touched his phone, though. It’s a good sign, Alistair thinks, because it means he hasn’t been in touch with Hamada. It’s pleasing, too. Perhaps they really are done, now that there’s a possibility of their affair being revealed.

Alistair still hasn’t told Hiro about tomorrow’s meeting. It’s like a dark, ominous cloud looming over his head, threatening to drown him at the slightest suggestion of unveiling it. He doesn’t want Hiro to see that pathetic student again, and Alistair is too afraid of what Hiro will suggest, if he admits to Monday’s meeting. Another desperate promise of trapping him. Another insistent _need_ to see the man. Alistair tightens his grip on the wine menu.

“Order a red wine, Daddy,” Hiro suggests. Beneath the table, he rubs his foot along Alistair’s calf, smirking all the meanwhile as he leans forward, appearing ever attentive as his father asks the waiter for suggestions. “I want something sweet.”

For someone who had been seemingly so terrified of being found out, Hiro is acting incredibly blatant with his advances with the waiter standing right there. Alistair supposes it’s harmless; it’s not as though this clueless, uneducated waiter will even pickup on the open flirtations. Alistair clears his throat and requests his steak to be cooked medium-well. A nice red will indeed pair well, he thinks; something that will keep Hiro calm, too. Maybe he’ll back off. It’s not that Alistair doesn’t like the attention; rather, it’s that he likes it too much. But, he knows it’s fleeting. Alistair shouldn’t grow accustomed to being the center of Hiro’s attention. 

When the waiter leaves, Alistair glances back to Hiro, who is biting his lip. He looks about ready to jump across the table and beg to be fucked.

“You seem very insistent, today,” Alistair tells him. “You know you don’t need to worry about Hamada. We’ve been over that.”

“This has nothing to do with that,” Hiro argues. He sounds convincing, but his expression flatlines. “You know I like when we spend time together, Daddy.”

It’s true. Their affair, their routine—it hasn’t lost its appeal. Hiro still loves being out in public with his father. Despite his fears, he almost hopes some paparazzi snaps a photo of them at the dinner table, now. Rub it in Tadashi’s face. That idiot has nothing to stand on, right now. He’ll only look like a fool, if he tries to do something about his suspicions.

“We should go somewhere, this summer,” Hiro then suggests. “And, you deserve a vacation.”

“We can go up to Washington, if you’d like,” Alistair decides as he tries to distract himself from his son. “I have a private cabin, there. Away from everyone.”

“I like the sound of that,” Hiro agrees.

Away from the world, he could easily forget about Tadashi Hamada. Robert Callaghan, too.

The waiter returns with an expensive bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He uncorks it and pours both of them a glass. Alistair tells the young sever to go easy on Hiro’s glass, and the waiter fills his not even half of the way. Hiro frowns.

“You don’t need to be seen intoxicated in public,” Alistair chides. “I’m still your father. I have to make sure you’re somewhat responsible.”

Hiro scoffs. He wonders if his father is just saying that because he thinks the press are recording this conversation, somehow.

“Are you still mad at me?” he then asks. “About Tadashi, I mean?”

Alistair hums, taking a sip of his wine. It’s dark, woody. Despite how expensive it is, he has to admit it’s a little disappointing. Then again, with the stress he’s been experiencing over Hiro’s revelation about Hamada, nothing has really tasted like anything other than dust. He’s beginning to think, though, that Hiro has just been paranoid. He’s certainly at ease, now, having no shame as he leans forward, all coy and flirty. His body slides from side to side, in a teasing motion as he wets his lips.

His anger got the best of him, the other night. He’s not proud. He takes a slightly larger sip of wine and shifts his weight. 

“I was never really mad at you,” he admits, carefully. “It was the situation that had me upset. Surely, you understand that, now?”

Hiro nods, although he’s not quite sure he understands everything. He was under the impression that tossing your glass against a wall was a pretty clear sign of anger management issues. Then again, he is starting to realize the real threat Tadashi has on their relationship. He could destroy them both. Krei Tech would be ruined. Alistair’s name would be dragged through the dirt. And, Hiro would be alone.

Alistair can tell, just by his son’s question, that he’s still afraid. He may act confident. Arrogant, most of the time. But, the idea of being alone is the only thing that truly scares him.

Eventually, the waiter returns with their steaks. Hiro has a side of mashed potatoes with his, which has Alistair smiling, privately, behind his glass of wine. Every so often, his son’s childlike tendencies show. He’s already flattening out the mound with his fork, flooding the gravy over the plate and around his steak.

Perhaps bringing up the meeting may actually soothe Hiro’s nerves. The knowledge that Hamada is willing to talk to him, at all, interact without police involved, is a relatively good sign. It’s possible, even, that Tadashi just wants _out_ of this situation all together and has decided he wants his trouble’s worth in the form of a check.

“He agreed to a meeting,” Alistair says, trying not to let his voice shake. “I suppose I should thank you. It’s been messy, but you did it. Just like you said you would.”

Hiro drops his fork. “What?” he exasperates. He looks up at his father, gaping. “He—what?”

Alistair stares back at him, repeats it, and Hiro’s eyes go wide.

“It’s a trap,” he says, quickly. The words are desperate, uneasy, and they don’t stop. “Dad, you can’t see him. It’s a trap. It’s not about Baymax.”

There’s no fucking way it’s about anything other than Tadashi’s suspicions. Hiro feels sick. His heart is pounding, and he continues to stare.

“You need to cancel it.”

“Hiro, he wouldn’t risk it,” Alistair assures him. “ He knows I have more power than he does.”

When Alistair promised that Hamada would stay silent, he meant every word. That boy will not control this relationship. He won’t split them. Alistair has already promised himself this, over and over.

But, Hiro is worried. His anxiety feels like bile in his stomach, and he wants to stand and run out of the restaurant, find Tadashi and punch him square in the jaw.

“Offer him more money,” Hiro then says. “He claims not to care about being rich, but the right price can silence anyone.”

“We’re not even certain if he really knows,” Alistair tries to reason, although Hiro won’t listen; he’s inconsolable, right now. The panic in his eyes is all too real. “Hiro, he won’t do anything to hurt us. I won’t let him.”

Hiro stays silent for several more seconds until he takes a sip of his wine and picks up his silverware again. He starts to cut his steak. Maybe Alistair is right. They still have the upper-hand, here. They’re still in control. Tadashi has suspicions. Not facts. Hiro, however, has plenty of ammunition.

“We know about his affair with Callaghan,” he says, more calmly; “and, he fucked me. We could blackmail him. Sleeping with a minor, or whatever.”

Alistair gives an uneasy look. He doesn’t like thinking about those kind of threats. Probably because Hiro could very well use such a threat against him, as well. Just another tactic that would unveil the boy’s similarities to his mother.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells his son. “You did your part, and you succeeded. I told you I’d handle it from here, and I mean that.”

It’s the best he can offer, right now. Hiro gives a reluctant nod, but still doesn’t appear at ease.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“Selfish reasons,” Alistair admits. “I knew you’d react poorly, and I was enjoying how… _nice_ things felt.”

Alistair drops his gaze, and he can feel Hiro’s eyes on him, curious. He won’t understand the deeper connotation of his words; they’ll be lost in the boy’s worry—amongst the basic inability he seems to possess when it comes to any admission of what their relationship means. 

The rest of their meal is met with relaxed silence. The wine has Hiro feeling sleepy but complacent, and he’s still rubbing his foot against Alistair’s calf when the check arrives.

As they stand, Alistair draws him close in an embrace that passes as fatherly. He still drags his fingertips across Hiro’s bare upper-arm, reveling in how warm and soft his son feels. He continues this even when they’re in the car, heading back to the penthouse. He slides his hand up Hiro’s side, then teases the collarbone that just barely protrudes from his shirt. Hiro exhales. He loves the sensation of those long, slender fingers.

“Do you ever think about her?” Hiro asks. “My mom, I mean.”

Alistair’s hand stops, but he manages to speak. “Sometimes,” he says. “Do you?”

“Sometimes,” Hiro echoes.

The driver wishes them a good night when they arrive; and, back inside, Alistair heats up the kettle on the stove to make them both some tea. Between them, the silence is comforting. Hiro flips open his phone and mindlessly scrolls through some threads he was tracking, only briefly considering texting Tadashi as some sort of test. He doesn’t think trying to act normal is going to make much of a difference, though. Alistair isn’t fully convinced, but Tadashi’s radio silence has been more than telling, for Hiro.

“You promise you’ll tell me everything, as soon as it’s over?" he asks. He’s sitting cross-legged on the couch with Alistair, who is reviewing some work emails on his phone. "What if he does ask for more money? Are you gonna give it, to him?”

Alistair smiles when Hiro bumps his side with his foot. Something as calming, as simple as this, is what he wants to have at the end of every night.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he answers as he places his phone on the coffee table.

He catches Hiro in a kiss, and it’s soft, gentle. It doesn’t feel like they usually are when they grab desperately at one another. No. Alistair takes his time, kissing down Hiro’s neck, sliding hands up his son’s torso and, carefully, guiding the boy to fall back onto the couch.

“I’m not losing this,” Alistair says, determinedly.

He mostly says it to himself, but Hiro loves it, sighing in time with Alistair’s breath, hips rolling of their own accord. By the time Alistair has stripped him down, Hiro is already whimpering his name.

Regardless of where they stand, of how Hamada has managed to disrupt their lives, Alistair refuses to give up on Hiro. This is too important, and Hamada has no shot. Alistair knows Hiro would never choose a pathetic freshman over a rich, grown man. It’s just not his style.

“Thank God,” he murmurs against the skin above Hiro’s waistline. When Hiro asks what he said, Alistair stays silent until he’s got Hiro’s cock down his throat. Then, he’s moaning, and his son is arching his back into that hot, accommodating mouth.

* * *

Tadashi straightens his black satin tie and stares at himself in the mirror.

The secretary told him to wear business casual, and he’s pretty sure this counts. Just a dress shirt, tie and cardigan, with some comfortable slacks. He looks like he’s a hopeful, willing college student, which is the exact opposite of how he feels, right now.

His stomach is in a knot. He’s barely slept this weekend, and his schoolwork has remained untouched. The more he thinks about the impending meeting, the more he begins to sweat.

Tadashi has no idea what he intends to say to Alistair Krei. He doesn’t want to ruin Hiro’s life by telling the authorities, but he can threaten it, if it keeps the boy safe. Because whatever sick relationship is going on between Krei and Hiro _needs_ to end. 

Hiro has been abused his whole life by his mother’s orders and, now, he’s facing a day to day trauma by living with his own stepfather. Did Maemi know? Was it some kind of agreement she had with Krei when they decided to marry, in exchange for the man’s money? Or, did Krei prey upon Maemi because she had a young child, whose behavior had already been obvious, to him?

Tadashi hears his phone go off. Still hopeful, he grabs the device from his bed and stares at it.

Unfortunately, it’s from Robert and not Hiro.

> Please, call me?  
>  Sent at 10:22 a.m.

Tadashi frowns. He hasn’t heard from Hiro all weekend, which has only increased his concerns. He could see the fear written all over Hiro’s face on Friday. Hiro knew that he suspected, and it scared him. Hiro understood the weight of what someone’s discovery could mean. He _knew_ , and he probably ran right back to his father to warn him of Tadashi’s suspicions. 

For the hundredth time in the past seventy-two hours, Tadashi considers texting the boy to see if he’ll receive a response. He knows, deep down, he won’t, and that hurts the most. Hiro will ignore it. He won’t jump at his chance to respond the way Tadashi has seen him do with his father. Tadashi still remembers the casual nickname attached to Krei’s number on Hiro’s phone— _Daddy_ , followed by that infuriating heart emoticon—and slams his phone back down. He should’ve known just from that, but he dismissed it as some kind of annoyingly endearing attachment Hiro had to his stepfather. But, _no._

_No._

How often does Hiro say that, to his father? Do they really share it as some kind of kinky sentiment with one another? Does Hiro whisper it in his throes of passion? Does Krei tell him to say it?

Tadashi closes his eyes and tries to breathe. He can’t lose his temper in front of Krei. He has to stay composed, otherwise he won’t get anywhere. Tadashi will just look like a pathetic, overly emotional fag, and Alistair will laugh right in his face.

The walk to Krei Tech isn’t long. He arrives with plenty of time to spare and stares up at the white, oddly shaped building. It’s a huge site. Tadashi has seen photos countless times, and they even drove by it when Cass originally moved him up back in August. He distinctly remembers staring out the passenger window in awe, unable to process how that was really _the_ Krei Tech. Now, he feels nothing but resentment. Alistair Krei has an entire empire, and no one knows the sordid truth. He’s a pedophile. A child molester. And, half the population is wandering around, carrying his phones, his laptops, his watches. Just like Tadashi.

There are tourists talking photos of themselves outside the building. Students and press-looking individuals scribbling down notes as they stare up every so often, probably working on reports. Tadashi wonders what would happen if he marched up to them and gave them a _real_ lead.

When he enters Krei Tech, the sound of the outside fades away, and he’s left with an empty, marble room. There’s a front desk and a receptionist, who glances up with a friendly smile and leans forward to acknowledge him.

“Hello!” she chirps, brightly. “Welcome to Krei Tech. How may I help you?”

“My name is Tadashi Hamada,” he tells her, and he’s cordial, because she’s too sweet and easy-going to be anything but. “I have a meeting with Krei at noon.”

“ _Oh_!” she says, eyebrows shooting up. She clacks away on her keyboard, then grabs a piece of paper from the small printer. “Well, then, I won’t keep you. Here’s your guest I.D. And, if you could just sign _here_.”

Her well-manicured nail points at a clipboard. Tadashi signs and feels his stomach twisting with each scribble of his name. He takes the I.D. and attaches it to his cardigan, and she tells him to go up to the top level. He’s alone on the elevator, which only increases his nerves, and he checks his phone exactly three times, hoping—praying—that he may have received a text from Hiro.

There’s nothing. He’s starting to realize he shouldn’t expect anything. Hiro doesn’t want his help, his sympathy. He’s clearly been conditioned his whole life to want the affections of older, rich men. Hiro is going to follow any and all orders his father gives, which inevitably includes cutting all ties with Tadashi.

When the elevator doors open, Tadashi finds himself forty storeys high and greeted by a secretary who has a much more relaxed demeanor than the receptionist. She instructs him to take a seat. Tadashi does and finds himself nervously playing with his hands.

Just knowing Alistair Krei is behind that set of large, wooden doors has his hearting racing a mile a minute. Now that he’s faced with meeting the man in a few minutes, he wonders if he’s actually going to go through with this whole thing. Regardless of where everyone stands, Krei is still going to try and convince him to sign over Baymax. What if Tadashi is so blind-sighted by his suspicions that he ends up accepting the deal? It’ll just be another display of his weaknesses.

Tadashi promised himself he couldn’t be bought—and, hell, he knows he can’t give Baymax to an abusive pedophile. Obviously. So, what is he going to say, when Krei inevitably tells Tadashi to keep quiet? When Krei belittles him and dangles cash in his face, telling Tadashi not to worry? That it’s all taken care of?

Tadashi clenches his eyes shut. Robert thinks he’s just a kid. Just some college freshman with a dream, who can’t even pay his own way at restaurants. It’s fucking infuriating.

Giving into Alistair Krei would not be the first time Tadashi ever obeyed an old man for cash.

* * *

It’s fifteen minutes past the initial meeting time Alistair scheduled for Tadashi Hamada. He’s purposely keeping him waiting, and it’s childish, sure, but he knows it’s only making the man more anxious. He pictures Hamada out there, fidgeting in the sofa chair with jittery hands and a sweating brow, and it’s very tempting, Alistair thinks, to turn up the heat in his office, just to further test the idiot’s willpower.

Alistair glances at his cell phone and rereads the last text message from Hiro. It was sent about an hour ago. It’s simple and lacks any real details, but the more Alistair revisits the text, the more it stirs at his lower stomach.

> u bruised my thighs   
>  Sent at 11:14 a.m.

Not surprising. Alistair had spent twenty—maybe thirty—minutes between his son’s legs, teasing every inch of that skin. Hiro’s soft, creamy thighs have always been one of Alistair’s favorite features. He bruises easily there, which is exactly why Alistair loves sucking at that sensitive skin. Hiro goes crazy for it, each and every time. Last night, his impatience had been just as arousing as his desperation for it to continue, and Alistair, too, never wanted it to end. Those whimpers, those cries… He can still so vividly hear them in his head.

He never wants to stop hearing how Hiro calls out, for him.

_Daddy…_

Alistair places down his phone, breathes. He knows he could say anything to his son, and the boy would fervently reply. He’s just about to call Hamada into the office when he decides to grab his phone again.

> Show me.  
>  Sent at 12:16 p.m. 

Immediately, Alistair mutes his phone and places it in his desk. Knowing Hiro, he’ll reply with a copious amount of photos. It’s unlikely that Alistair will respond, but just having the satisfaction of Hiro taking those photos, sending them, to him, is more than enough. Besides, unbeknownst to Hiro, Alistair has always saved his son’s photos without hesitation.

Finally, Alistair presses the intercom and instructs his secretary to send their guest inside.

Alistair doesn’t need to calm any nerves. His claim on Hiro is intact, and the dull arousal he now feels for last night’s memories have him fully prepared to face Tadashi Hamada.

He stands. His secretary opens the door and gestures Tadashi inside, who slowly walks in and stares at just about everything in the finely furnished office before, ultimately, settling his eyes upon Alistair.

“Mr. Hamada,” he greets when the man, sharply dressed and adorning a professional expression, enters his office. Alistair offers his hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Alistair Krei, as I’m sure you know. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Tadashi notices the man’s hand is cold and dry, much like the rest of this office. He glances around again, then sits in one of the leather chairs opposite Alistair’s desk. Six months ago, he would’ve killed to be here. And, now, all he feels is disgust and rising anger. He knows what Alistair Krei has done; and, any doubt before this moment is wiped away by the fact the man is staring him down, smug and daring.

Krei wants him to crack. To be too weak to bring it up. To just keep quiet about the whole thing, because, _hey_ , money.

“I apologize about the wait,” Alistair says, easily. He takes a seat back at his desk. “I was caught up in a phone call. Would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Some whiskey, perhaps?”

“No, I’m fine,” Tadashi replies.

He wonders if the pounding of his heart can be heard. In front of him is the man who has been abusing Hiro, forcing him to sleep with him whilst convincing the poor kid it’s _normal_. Alistair Krei looks exactly the same in person as he does in photographs. Tall and slim with fine bone structure and a well-pressed suit. He’s decidedly handsome. Tadashi hates himself for the thought, but it’s true. His entire aura resonates importance, power. It’s no wonder Hiro is so drawn, to him.

Behind Krei, where the glistening view of San Fransokyo should be calming, Tadashi only finds himself growing nauseous. This forty-storey view must be nothing compared to what he has back at his penthouse.

“I wonder if you’d still have this office, if anyone else knew,” he starts.

Alistair doesn’t flinch, and Tadashi hates knowing his own voice is shaking.

“I think you know why I’m here,” he then continues, steadier; “and, we both know it doesn’t really have to do with Baymax.”

By now, Alistair’s expression is unreadable. He’s only surprised by Hamada’s lack of subtly. The teenager is dressed the part of a hopeful interviewee, but it’s clear he went into this with no other intention than to attempt and expose Alistair’s misdeeds. He didn’t bring Baymax. Not even a portfolio. Alistair wants to laugh at the idiot’s vigilante mindset.

“I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong start,” Alistair says, calmly. He offers what should be a warm smile, but, really, it’s condescending. “Are you sure there isn’t something I can get you to drink? It may calm your nerves, Mr. Hamada.”

“Stop playing games!” Tadashi shouts. He’s standing, now, because he refuses to feel like a weak, vulnerable teenager. He tries very hard not to start visibly shaking and, instead, leans against the front of the desk with his palms. “And, don’t you dare use that patronizing tone on me, _Mr. Krei_. You really think you can get away with any of this? For—for God’s sake, it was you who pinned Hiro on me in the first place, wasn’t it?”

Exhaling, Alistair, too, rises from his chair and folds his hands behind his back, assessing Tadashi’s vicious expression. He’s already falling apart, the poor idiot. Alistair’s heart may be beating a mile a minute, but his exterior is poised, collected.

“I apologize, on behalf of my son, if he’s spent a great deal of his time harassing you,” he explains. “That was never my intention. I think it’s best, for all of us, if we were to forget his… rambunctious behavior.”

Tadashi doesn’t know if he should be offended, or angry. Maybe both. Krei is pretending none of this is even an issue, as if Tadashi could ever forget what the man is doing to his own son, as if he’s actually treating Hiro like he deserves. 

“Do you wish to discuss numbers, Mr. Hamada?” he says, more casually. “Or, would you prefer to read over the outlines of the contract my assistant drafted?”

At that, Tadashi starts to laugh. It’s a distracted, cold laugh, and Alistair stares back at him with impatience. Tadashi has to turn away as he runs his hands down his face and shakes his head.

“Numbers,” he muses. “You don’t really care about those, do you? Considering how many are between you and the kid you’re fucking.”

_There._

It’s out in the open, now, and Tadashi knows he has to be getting to Krei, because who wouldn’t be concerned? Tadashi possesses some dangerous information. He knows more than anyone should, and Krei understands that, fully. He’s just got a good poker face. 

“I want to discuss how you’re going to start owning up to this,” Tadashi spits out. “I want to discuss how you need to leave him the fuck alone, or risk the entire world knowing why the founder and CEO of Krei Tech still wants his stepson around.”

And, admittedly, Tadashi’s words are threatening. Alistair doesn’t want to think of his entire world crumbling around him, but it’s difficult. Tadashi shouldn’t have this kind of control. He’s a stupid, impressionable college student, not an expert blackmailer. But, ever calm, Alistair adjusts his cuffs and starts to move, strolling out from behind his desk and circling Tadashi.

“I’d prefer if you stopped seeing my son,” he instructs. “You haven’t been a very good influence on him, and I’m _sure_ Robert Callaghan would agree. You don’t want to lose that sponsorship from him, do you?”

Tadashi turns when Alistair starts to walk behind him. He needs to be careful, here. This is clearly a game of wits; of who can keep their composure longer. Considering the sensitivity Robert possesses for his old flame, Tadashi contemplates whether that emotion is shared.

“Does Hiro know about you two?” he asks. “You’d think someone who’s so afraid of being outed would be a little more concerned about the public knowing he’s a goddamn pedophile, too.”

Alistair stops moving, and Tadashi smirks, confident.

“Yeah,” Tadashi snarls; “Robert’s told me all about you two.”

It’s not anywhere near as damaging at Tadashi’s other bout of knowledge, but it’s sure as hell much more shocking, to Alistair. Robert _told_ him? After nearly two decades of staying silent, the man admitted their relationship to someone? Alistair wonders if, perhaps, Hiro misjudged the two’s affair. It’s possible that it’s more than just casual sex. Alistair can’t imagine why else Robert would so carelessly expose a well-kept secret.

His air of confidence doesn’t falter, though. Alistair simply moves back and appraises Tadashi more critically.

 _Well_. He’s cute. Better looking in person, that’s for sure. He has a strong jaw and muscular build. His hips are somewhat disproportionate to the rest of his body, but those slim set of legs are appealing. Alistair somewhat understands Robert’s attraction. Certainly not Hiro’s, though, because Tadashi Hamada is so blatantly just a _child_ —as inexperienced as he is embarrassing!

“My son is not interested in the gossip that comes from some bitter, washed-up homosexual,” he remarks, cruelly. “You have your own affairs to be concerned about, after all. How many times did Robert fuck you before he agreed to sponsor you, huh?” 

He doesn’t hide the once-over he gives Tadashi. It leaves the younger man stuttering.

“Y-You think you can—throw that in my face?” he heaves. “You really think you can compare my relationship to a professor to what _you’re_ doing? You’re a child molester! You’re a _rapist_.”

“And, what does that make you, Mr. Hamada?” Alistair hisses, seamless in his response. “I do believe you’re forgetting your own affairs with my—persuasive, shall I say?—son.”

Tadashi tries very hard not to swing out his fist and clip Krei. “He’s _traumatized,_ ” Tadashi argues. “You don’t even realize—! He’s an _abuse_ victim, and you’re taking advantage of it! I might be eighteen, but you’re, like, forty-five. Our relationship is questionable, _at worst_.”

A bitter chuckle. “That’s quite a pathetic defense you have for yourself, Hamada,” Alistair replies. His tone and expression have completely changed. There’s something very dangerous about him, now. “You’re still an adult. He’s still underage.”

Tadashi may be acting tough, but Alistair knows he’s terrified. He has no idea what Alistair Krei is capable of, after all. He doesn’t know how far the man is willing to go to preserve what he shares with his son.

Maemi remains proof of that.

“I—I can’t believe this,” Tadashi says. “You’re insane. That’s the only explanation. Jesus Christ. You don’t care about Hiro, you don’t care—”

“I care a great deal about my son,” Alistair corrects, harshly. “What do you even know about him, anyway? Do you think he actually enjoys spending time with you? He’s only ever stepped foot on that pathetic campus because of his internship, not because he has any interest in you. You can stop threatening me at any time. It’s not as though my son would ever turn against me. You, on the other hand? He’s already bored of you.”

Tadashi closes his eyes. “That’s not true,” he denies. “Hiro and I—we have something. A connection. A friendship. And, I refuse to stop seeing him.”

Those are words Tadashi never prepared to say, admit. He’s barely admitted them, to himself. But, he’s starting to recognize how true they are, and he feels his heart breaking more than ever.

Yes, Hiro has an intense personality. He behaves in a manner that so easily causes ridicule. Tadashi has been guilty of that judgment and of cruel name calling; but, he didn’t understand. It’s no excuse— _it isn’t_ —but, if he loses Hiro because of his ignorance, he’ll never forgive himself.

“He needs me,” Tadashi whispers. “He needs someone in his life who isn’t going to abuse him.”

“I’m afraid you’re delusional, Mr. Hamada,” Alistair says, darkly. 

Alistair still has that menacing look on his face when he proceeds to extend his arm and place it on Tadashi’s shoulder. The touch is tight but not necessarily threatening. It’s enough to have Tadashi turning to face him, looking both shocked and helpless. Alistair’s fingers brush the exposed part of Tadashi’s neck before he grips his chin.

“He told me all about how disappointing you were, how _boring_ ,” he taunts. “He doesn’t like gentle, Hamada. He never has. I know everything about what he likes, desires. I’m the best he’s ever had. Perhaps you could learn a thing, or two... It’s clear that professor of yours has taught you nothing.”

Tadashi attempts to say something, but nothing comes out, and Alistair continues to hold his chin, grinning back at him, ferociously. Alistair would never actually fuck him, but he knows where the power lies between them, and he refuses to let Tadashi have any of it. 

“Maybe that’s what you’re after,” Alistair teases. “Is Robert no longer satisfying you? Is that why you fell victim to my son’s advances?”

Tadashi is staring into cold, blue eyes. He feels his neck heat up. 

“You’re still such a bottom, aren’t you?” Alistair scoffs as he leans in closer and presses his right hand against the man’s chest. “It’s cute, really. I bet you’ve had this fantasy a thousand times, haven’t you? Getting taken over a desk in a big corporate office like this...”

Tadashi’s breathing has hitched, and he’s pulling in his lips, trying to gather his thoughts, a response, _anything_. He doesn’t want to admit what he’s thinking, feeling. Alistair wonders if Hiro has seen this helpless yet defiant expression on Tadashi. Probably. It is easy to picture his son on the man’s lap, teasing him with clever words and skilled touches. Tadashi’s face is burning red, and his glare is just as heated.

“How do you like being fucked, Hamada?” the man whispers, leaning closer. His hand drapes further down. “Hiro loves it when I push him down and fuck him from behind. I think you’d like that, too, _hm_?”

That’s when Tadashi falls back to reality. Because, _yes_ , it’d be so easy to just foldand let _the_ Alistair Krei have his way with him. Tadashi is conscious enough to recognize a cross between anger and need, and electrical bolts of temptation sparkle through the air, and he fucking hates it. But, _no_ , he’s not that easy, and hearing such vindictive words about Hiro is what has Tadashi pulling away, swearing, and finding his voice, once more.

“No,” he sneers. “No! You’re despicable, you know that? Absolute fucking _scum_.”

Alistair throws his head back in laughter. “Ah, there it is,” he remarks. He moves away from Tadashi and back behind his desk. “There’s that _spark_ that must have Robert so enthralled.”

He’s practically heaving. Tadashi feels a cold sweat coming on, and he’s nauseous again. He doesn’t think he’s ever hated someone the way he hates Alistair Krei. _God_. Tadashi is still furious with Robert; but, right now, his goodwill has him desperate to defend his professor.

“We share a lot more than just sex,” Tadashi tells him. “Of course, you’d never understand that, would you? I’m sure I’ve made Robert a hell of a lot happier than you ever did. You practically ruined him.”

“Still crying about that, is he? Can’t say I’m surprised. Tell me, does he still make that cute, scrunched up little face when he shoots his load?”

Tadashi hisses out his next words. “I’m hardly surprised you can’t remember anything beyond how he performed in bed,” he says. “I’d say Robert is doing pretty well, for himself, considering he’s fucking a nice, tight ass like mine. Quite the upgrade from your pathetic self, huh?”

“Tight?” Alistair echoes. His subsequent scoff holds genuine amusement. “Hiro is tight, Hamada. You ought to know. Why, he’s the absolute tightest fuck there is, and he has to spread so far open for my cock to fit inside. He loves it, _begs_ for it. But, you…? You’re so used up by that professor of yours that you’re nothing but a desperate whore, folding to both mine and my son’s advances. Pitiful.”

Tadashi slams his hands on the desk. “You’re fucking _sick_!” he screams. “Do you honestly think fucking a fourteen year-old kid is okay? Do you really think you’re going to get away with it?”

“Get out of my office, Hamada,” Alistair demands when he takes a seat back at his desk. “And, before you think you can slander my name, remember that I have just as much on you. Besides, I think you’ll find my son’s loyalty to me is remarkably strong. Especially compared to your complete lack of willpower.”

Tadashi, flushed and enraged, glares back at the man. He knows he has to leave before his temper gets the better of him. One more remark about Hiro will have Tadashi flinging himself over the desk and tearing the CEO to shreds. A night in the slammer isn’t going to rescue Hiro from any of this mess.

“This isn’t over.”

Tadashi didn’t win this one, and it fucking stings. He can’t believe he let Alistair Krei touch him, demean him. It sickens Tadashi. He genuinely feels like he’s going to vomit.

But, he doesn’t. He tears out of the office and straight for the elevator. He doesn’t even acknowledge the chipper receptionist, who wishes him a good day and waves, politely.

Only when he’s halfway back to SFIT is he calm enough to take out his phone and text Hiro.

> Get to my dorm right now  
>  Sent at 1:20 p.m.

He prays that Hiro will listen.

* * *

Hiro is still in bed when he gets the text. He’s been awake for hours, but he’s tired and sore; and, even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s also anxious. He supposes Tadashi’s text at least signifies the man hasn’t been murdered. There is, as Hiro suspected, some sense of relief attached to that notion; however, it doesn’t change much. He still doesn’t know what is going to happen, now.

Ignoring Tadashi’s text, Hiro navigates back to the message from his father and the plethora of photos he dutifully sent his way. He looks good in them. His legs are spread. His thighs, marked. He’s hard in all the photos, and the last one shows off a bead of precome.

Hiro’s never been particularly fond of masturbation. He can’t even remember touching himself before his mother forced him to start having sex. He finds the entire act boring, unexciting; he’d much rather have someone else do the work, for him. But, every so often, when he’s alone and thinking about the desires his father is forced to keep pent up during the day, Hiro loses himself to desperate touches and solitary cries.

He thinks about Alistair storming into the penthouse and grabbing him. He thinks about Alistair shoving him to the floor and fucking him so hard that, maybe, he even bleeds a little.

It’s not surprising that his father hasn’t commented on the photos. Instead of pushing for a compliment, he inquiries about Tadashi.

> did he even show up?  
>  Sent at 1:32 p.m.

Alistair said himself that he’ll always respond regarding business, but Hiro still doubts he’ll receive a response. The initial request for photos was already out of the ordinary. Perhaps his father was feeling more anxious than he wanted to admit. This morning, Hiro remembers yawning and murmuring, tiredly, when Alistair’s alarm went off; he’s certain his father reached over to brush his bangs out of his face and kiss his forehead. Not unusual. Alistair often kisses him goodbye before work. But, Hiro has a distinct feeling his father spent several minutes just staring at him.

How is Alistair feeling, now? Is he rejoicing? Did he force Tadashi leave the office, humiliated and defeated? Did Alistair break him down and convince Tadashi to sign over his invention’s rights? Hiro knows better than to be _worried_ for Alistair, because his father is more than capable of taking care of himself, but there’s still a sense of dread running through him, now. He wonders what it means.

He’s done a remarkable job forgetting about Tadashi in the last forty-eight hours. Truthfully, he hasn’t had any reason to even _think_ about the man. Not when Alistair has kept him so preoccupied. But, he’s curious. How shaken is Tadashi, by the whole thing? What does he want from Hiro, right now?

Eventually and, against better judgment, Hiro decides it’s worth seeing what the hell Tadashi wants. He knows Alistair will be livid, but it’s not enough to convince Hiro to stay put. 

Hiro is, after all, still very much invested in plucking at Tadashi’s heart strings.

He showers, then heads out. It’s a nice enough day to walk, and he’s not in any hurry. Keep Tadashi waiting, Hiro thinks. It’s a much more simplified version of playing hard to get. He knows it’s working when, halfway to SFIT, his phone vibrates.

> I’m not joking around. Get here.  
>  Sent at 3:11 p.m.

It’s quite demanding—and, not in a sexy way. Hiro rolls his eyes and only texts back when he’s approaching the dorms. It’s there that he finds Tadashi standing outside the building, phone in hand, and Hiro isn’t subtle—or, quiet—when he storms up to him and shoves him several steps backward. 

“You stupid fuck!” Hiro shouts. “You sure have some balls, demanding that I drop everything and come over here.”

Tadashi stumbles, and it’s basic instinct to want to yell back and defend himself, but he doesn’t allow the aggravation that begs to emerge. He merely frowns and clutches at his phone. He wishes he could explain why his heart feels as though it’s already breaking.

“Calm down, okay?” he says, holding his hands up. “I’m worried. Hiro— _Christ_ , you have no idea how worried I’ve been about you, this weekend.”

The younger boy glances around, but they’re mostly alone. “You should’ve told me you were seeing my father,” he spats out with a glare. He shoves him again. “You went behind my back! I haven’t even heard from him since he left, this morning. Did you kill him? I’m not going to defend you in court, if you did.”

It might only be half a joke, but Tadashi still feels his stomach clench in jealousy and, immediately, feels shitty about it. He shouldn’t be jealous. It’s not his place; and, _fuck_ , it’s inappropriate. This isn’t a love game. No one should be fighting to _win_ Hiro.

Except, seeing Hiro, now, hurts. He doesn’t want to look at him and see some precocious, seductive teenager. All those words and actions are rehearsed, memorized from years of abuse. The attraction Tadashi possesses for the boy makes him feel dirty, ashamed. He doesn’t want to keep staring at those lips. He doesn’t want to admit there’s already a dull arousal curling at his lower-stomach.

“He’s hurting you,” he stutters out. He reaches forward to grab at Hiro’s hand, hoping, perhaps, to calm him. Hiro’s thin wrist feels breakable. “Just listen, to me, will you? Your father has no regard for anyone. He practically tried to molest me! He’s a criminal. You’re not safe with him.”

Hiro barks out a laugh, pulling away from Tadashi’s touch and shaking his head. “Oh, I _doubt_ that,” he remarks. “No offense, but you’re not exactly his type.”

Tadashi isn’t offended; just shocked by Hiro’s complete lack of concern. It’s easy, for Hiro, to envision Alistair using his charms where necessary, but he refuses to believe that his father was sincere. Besides, Alistair hates Tadashi. The idea is pure hysteria. No wonder Tadashi is a mess, right now.

“Okay, look,” Tadashi restarts, and he looks desperate. “I’m here, for you. I am. So, if you want to go to the police, or see a counselor—”

“Christ!” Hiro interjects. “Will you just relax? It’s not a big deal. You’re the one sleeping with your professor. Whatever I’m doing with my father… It’s none of your business. _Geez_.”

It’s said a little too loudly, and there’s a group of students approaching the dorms. Tadashi urges Hiro away from the front doors and speaks in a much quieter tone.

“Maybe we should take this inside,” he says.

But, Hiro pulls away. “No, Tadashi,” he snaps. “I don’t care what you think. I seduced him. I made the first move. _I’m_ the one asking, for it. If I told him we were through, it’d be over like _that_.”

The defense comes easier than expected, and Hiro doesn’t think he’s ever thought about it before this moment. It’s true, though. Alistair respects him enough to know that Hiro wants sex; and, if Hiro were to ever change his mind about their relationship, there wouldn’t be an argument. It’s Alistair who has always had reservations. He’s the one who still, hidden beneath that calm façade, fears that trail of money given to Yama will, one day, be traced back, to them.

“I meant what I said the other day,” Hiro elaborates. “I like my arrangement with him. We’re good together. But, I also don’t expect _you_ to understand.”

Hiro gives another laugh. It’s colder, this time—even patronizing—and, Tadashi can’t seem to do anything except stare back at the younger boy. How much of this is because of his mother, and what part has his stepfather had in all of it? Is Hiro even gay? Is it possible for Hiro to truly regard Alistair as a lover _and_ a father?

The determination that sweeps across Hiro’s face says so much. _Too much_ , really, for his age. As much as it scares Tadashi to see that kind of adaptability on a child, the prospect of having it all washed away and replaced by some kind of panic is almost more terrifying. This is all Hiro knows. All he wants to know. And, he’s already starting to resent Tadashi for threatening to take it away.

Tadashi breathes out. “Don’t talk, to me, like I’m some random idiot,” he says. “You don’t get to look down on me when I’m trying to tell you that your father isn’t supposed to want you.”

“Well, I want him, too,” Hiro states, pointedly. “This isn’t much different than you and your professor.”

“It’s _so_ much different,” Tadashi stresses; “and, the fact you can’t see that is just— _fuck_ , I guess I can’t even explain it.”

Hiro starts to fume. He’s so much more defensive than he ever thought necessary. It’s not so much about protecting Alistair as it is protecting what they share. He and Tadashi are staring each other down, and there’s about four seconds where they just look at one another. Tadashi’s heart is beating way too fast, and he’s waiting for one of them to just explode and start screaming, because that’s what the energy is between them. 

“Is that the only reason you wanted me to come here?” Hiro demands. “Are you going to tell me what happened with my dad? Or, if you finally signed that contract?”

“I didn’t sign anything, and I don’t plan to, Hiro. I’d rather give up robotics all together than sign over my invention to a pedophile.”

Hiro appears affronted, and everything just _aches_ in the next moment,for Tadashi. This is a waste of time, the man thinks. If he could simply collapse in bed and sleep, everything would be better. Forget classes. Forget Robert. He has three missed calls from his professor, and Tadashi doesn’t ¬ _care_. He’s too exhausted by all of this to even think about anything else, yet that brutal challenge sparks within Hiro’s large, tempting eyes, and he’s rolling them.

The anger starts to flatline. It’s replaced by something much, _much_ more dangerous.

“Oh, Tadashi,” he breathes out. “I don’t know whether this makes you a hypocrite, or an idiot. I mean, you can’t even resist me; how do you expect him to?”

Tadashi freezes. And, then, that guilt hits him as quickly as Hiro is taking a step closer. He has to take a moment to concentrate. This isn’t okay. Not after what he’s just finished preaching; but, Hiro’s hand is on his chest, now, and the boy is smirking, _leaning_ , and Tadashi’s breath catches.

“You don’t want to _actually_ stop seeing me, do you, ‘Dashi?” Hiro asks with a pout. “We were having so much fun at the museum on Friday. Why, I bet you wanted to bring me back to your dorm for a proper quickie.”

Hiro’s bottom lip is puffy with well-practiced allure. He eyes scan down Tadashi’s body, and he takes the time to appreciate how sharply Tadashi is dressed. He resists the urge to pull out the tie that’s tucked underneath his cardigan and begin to play with it, because, right now, Tadashi’s vulnerability nearly has Hiro in stitches. Tadashi still wants him. His infatuation with Hiro is as genuine as the game the boy left unfinished between them. It’s an easy decision, for Hiro; not one that will ever have Alistair’s approval—but, one all his own. And, how many of those has Hiro been given, in his life?

“We could— _fix_ that,” he purrs out. “Provided, of course, you stay quiet about a few things.”

“Hiro…”

It would be so easy. Drag Hiro inside, push him into his dorm and take the boy, hard and fast. Maybe if he gets Hiro to come enough times, he’ll never want to go back to Krei and will only ever need Tadashi.

The thoughts rush through his mind. He’s thinking too hard. He can’t think too hard, when it comes to Hiro, otherwise he’ll fall apart.

He knows better than to try and grab at Hiro again, but he risks it. This time, with both hands. He places them on Hiro’s shoulders, pushing him back just a few inches so that he can properly look at him.

“Come inside.”

Hiro tilts his head, curious. Tadashi reaches for his wrist again and pulls him inside the building, where he doesn’t bother signing in his guest to the visitors log. The desk attendant is too distracted by whatever he’s watching on his laptop to care.

“This is probably pretty illegal, Mr. Morality,” Hiro muses as he allows himself to be dragged through the halls and down toward Tadashi’s room. “Bringing some innocent, underage little boy to your dorm room… Gosh, Tadashi. What would your professor think?”

The real question, Tadashi considers, is what would _Hiro_ think, if he knew about Robert’s past with Krei? It’s unmistakably clear that Hiro hasn’t the slightest inkling about it. If Tadashi hadn’t missed it, too, he’d marvel at Hiro’s ignorance.

“Of course, he must know all about us, by now, huh?” he carries on, proud. “Surely, despite all your relationship problems, he’s figured out you’ve fucked me? Or, have you been lying, to him? You wouldn’t want me telling him, would you?”

“You’re full of shit,” Tadashi hisses when he slams the door behind them. Instantly, the heat between them is enclosed in the small, private room. “Is that all you do, blackmail people to fuck you? Is that how you got your father? Threatened to tell the world he only married your mom to hide the fact he’s a fag?”

He tosses Hiro’s wrist away and catches a flash of defiance in Hiro’s eyes. He’s just initiated quite the challenge, implying Hiro can’t get laid unless he’s manipulating someone into bed. Tadashi keeps his distance, standing at the center of his room and staring back at Hiro.

Bring it on, little boy.

“You’re the one who texted me,” Hiro points out. He moves away from the door and plops down on Tadashi’s bed. “You’re the one who harassed my father, too. All because you’re _oh-so_ concerned about me. I don’t need to blackmail anyone.”

Hiro makes a soft musing noise as he crosses his legs. He rubs his calves together, eyes dark, but doesn’t drop the pout. Tadashi is visibly pissed. It’d be unnerving, Hiro thinks, if he didn’t already catch a glimpse of the man’s erection tracing the fabric of his already tight-fitting pants.

“And, you’re hard,” he says as he reaches out to press alongside Tadashi’s clothed cock. “How embarrassing.”

He giggles—a mix between seduction and cruelty—before he starts to pull the older man toward the bed with him. Tadashi resents how he’s feeling, but he refuses to hate himself, for it. He knows he’s not the same as Alistair Krei. He’s not a predator, or a manipulator. His attraction, although tangled in the infuriating way Hiro continues to _belittle_ him, is still very much real. In its own right, it’s still innocent.

“Do you really not care that your dad hit on me?” Tadashi asks. Hiro is unbuckling Tadashi’s belt, watching as the man’s eyes shut, tortured by some kind of thought he’ll never admit. “What if I had reciprocated?”

“Then, we’d just have another thing in common,” Hiro muses.

Tadashi grasps at Hiro’s hair and breathes deep. He wishes Hiro could top. The idea of being held down and demeaned, slapped and choked, has been floating around in his head for the past few hours. All because of that despicable man… 

Maybe it’s better that Hiro doesn’t hold any actual fondness, for him. Hiro thinks he’s weak and useless. It makes Tadashi harder, knowing this isn’t some kind of roleplay between people who trust each other, love each other.

“I want to get fucked, Hiro,” he whines, eyes clenched shut like he’s trying to shut out the fact that he’s begging.

Hiro pulls away to watch Tadashi’s face. He’s biting his lip, trembling. Just completely falling apart, inside and out. It’s pathetic. He wonders if Tadashi actually expects him to throw him onto the bed and fuck him, senseless. It’s a hilarious notion. Even if Hiro thought it’d be fulfilling for either of them, he remains disinterested in the prospect. His lips quirk in amusement, and he throws the belt onto the floor, still unbuttoning Tadashi’s pants as he shoves him toward the bed.

“I do believe we can accommodate your needs, Mr. Hamada.”

Tadashi hits the mattress with a startled noise. He doesn’t have time to think about the context of Hiro’s words before the boy is sliding off Tadashi’s pants. He pulls at Tadashi’s boxers and reveals his hard, eager cock. It looks positively swollen, Hiro thinks; _desperate._ Tadashi clearly hasn’t gotten laid since their tryst in the lab.

“You’re far too easy, you know that?” Hiro muses. He chuckles under his breath as he strokes the man’s cock, watching as precome immediately drips from the slit. “Fuck. And, you call me a slut.”

The older man is ready for a comeback, but Hiro doesn’t allow it. He’s sinking his mouth down onto Tadashi’s cock, practically choking as he allows it to hit the far back of his throat. Tadashi’s hands fly out and grasp back at the boy’s hair, steadying him but simultaneously bucking his hips into the wet, hot mouth.

“Shit, _Hiro_ …”

He can’t believe this is only the second time he’s had Hiro’s mouth on him. Tadashi groans and throws his head back. His fingers are already tangling in Hiro’s mop of hair, and it’s almost frightening how he tugs on it before urging the boy’s head down further. He shouldn’t want this as much as he does, knowing what he knows.

“That’s so—so good, Hiro.”

There’s an appreciative moan from Hiro. Glossy, dark eyes to go with it. He only pulls off to speak.

“So,” he says, a single hand still sliding up and down the man’s cock. He focuses his fingertips down that large vein and grins. “Where do you keep your big, thick vibrator, ‘Dashi?”

Tadashi grunts and pulls away. “What makes you think—?”

“Oh, don’t _even_ ,” Hiro replies. He reaches over the man’s body and starts to feel under his pillow. “I know you. You love getting fucked as much as I do, don’t you?”

Tadashi pulls—not so gently—at Hiro’s hair and groans. “Come on,” he urges. He attempts to guide him back down on his cock, but Hiro’s outstretched arm is still working. “Please.”

“Ah- _ha_!”

Hiro’s face positively lights up as he pulls out a sleek, purple vibrator. It’s a considerable girth and length. The veined texture is realistic enough, and Hiro knows it must’ve been expensive. This was probably the first goddamn purchase Tadashi made when he moved out. Hiro wonders how often Tadashi fucks himself with this colorful toy. He’s not surprised to find a small bottle of lube hidden in to the pillow case.

“Fuck you,” Tadashi grumbles, ashamed, but he swears he’s harder every second Hiro spends staring at him in amusement.

“ _Well_ , that would be a lot better, in my opinion,” the boy pouts as he starts to strip himself of his own clothing.

Tadashi swears again. Hiro could do anything, right now, and he’s pathetic enough to want it. Obediently, Tadashi spreads his legs and watches Hiro try to figure everything out. Has he done this before? Has he done anything beyond getting rammed?

“Hurry up, okay?” he snaps.

“Mm, I’m getting there,” he coos, feigning disinterest. He throws his clothes on the floor. “Tell me, does your professor like it when you talk back, to him, like that?”

Hiro clicks on the vibrator. It’s quiet but powerful, and Hiro doesn’t miss how Tadashi’s hips rise with expectation. There’s not much to this, Hiro thinks. He’s only ever done it on himself, which isn’t always easy—this will probably prove much easier. He wonders how Alistair would react, were Hiro to try and attempt this on him. Would he be disgusted? Or, would he fold just as easily as Tadashi?

Tadashi reaches out to grab at Hiro’s wrist, a silent instruction to get him to move, and it’s enough to have Hiro pulling away and turning off the vibrator, completely.

“That’s not very nice,” he remarks, glaring at the older man.

Hiro grabs Tadashi’s tie from beneath his cardigan and forces him upward, nearly choking him as he positions him in for a kiss. The man stifles a cough, then groans, and Hiro’s small, pink tongue probes at his lips, tasting every bit of him before he pulls off and removes the tie from his neck.

Tadashi’s cock is twitching, leaking. Hiro takes a moment to stroke down its velvety warmth. As much as he’d love to sink his mouth back down on that nice cock, he has every intention of properly torturing Tadashi.

“Christ—you’re hard.”

In one quick motion, Hiro bounds Tadashi’s wrists, knotting the tie as tightly as he can manage before throwing them aside and scooting back down the bed.

“There,” he comments, pleased. He pops open the small bottle of lube, coating his fingers and giggling. Tadashi looks as broken as he does shocked. “I should just leave you here, you know. Door wide open. I bet you’d let anyone come in and fuck you.”

Tadashi stares, resentfully, at that comment. 

_Well…_ He would. He often fantasizes about scenarios like that. Just the image of being used in such a way makes him shiver with want and anticipation. Tadashi’s hips shift in a new direction, and he moans. He wants to feel full. He misses it, feels like he’s been neglected for years. Hiro eyes his cock, stroking it, and Tadashi cries out. 

“I want it,” he pants out, and Hiro looks absolutely enchanted with his ability to reduce someone to this level. “Hiro… Come on. _Shit._ ” 

Tadashi gasps when Hiro drags the vibrator down his cock. It’s not even on, but Tadashi is so sensitive he feels like he could come just from this simple contact.

“Say please,” Hiro taunts. He’s coating his fingers with the lube but refusing to look down at the desperate man. “ _Nicely_.”

Payback, Hiro thinks, for how Tadashi had him begging and breaking in the lab. He moves to straddle the man and, finally, glances at the indignant expression Tadashi possesses.

“Say it,” the boy presses. “Say it, Tadashi.”

Tadashi squirms beneath the smaller boy. He feels, watches himself leaking, and throws his head back with half-laughter, half-lust. “Please, Hiro,” he pants out. “Please.”

That satisfied Hiro and, slowly, he guides his free hand between the man’s legs. He’s never touched his father here. Never really considered it, either. He wonders how hot Alistair would feel, how _tight_. Hiro’s lips quirk into an smile as he allows one finger to slip inside Tadashi. It goes in so easy, so slick. And, God, it’s hot. Tadashi feels on fire. Hiro takes a moment to appreciate how the older man clenches around him. It’s incredible. He’s daring enough to make it two, which sends Tadashi into a wild fit of pants and moans. Almost immediately, Hiro decides on three.

It’s tight. Hiro leans forward, appreciating the view of Tadashi’s broken features.

“Is this how you act with your boyfriend?” he whispers, and there’s a spark of jealousy that erupts from the tone. “No wonder he is so attached, to you.”

Tadashi is bucking down on his three fingers, trying, desperately, to fuck himself as best he can. Hiro watches the display for several seconds, allowing Tadashi the freedom until he rips away his fingers and chuckles.

His mouth is back on Tadashi’s cock. He’s lapping his tongue down the base, taking in the entire length as his hand moves back with the vibrator. He flicks it on, teasing Tadashi’s cock alongside his mouth’s frenzied work. Tadashi whines, loud and panicked. Hiro keeps it up for several more seconds until, finally, he pushes the man’s legs apart and aligns the vibrator with his stretched entrance.

He gives zero warning before completely penetrating Tadashi.

“Hiro—!”

Tadashi flails against the bed. His restrained his hands thrash, and he bucks his hips, swearing. He’s certainly not complaining about the caustic treatment; he’s sure they both know how amazing it is to just be slammed into, filled within a second, and it’s always so surprising when you realize how much you can take. Tadashi’s lips are parted as he adjusts, accommodating and, as the burn goes away, he realizes how much more he wants.

But, Hiro doesn’t move. Tadashi doesn’t want to complain, because the teen might pull away and leave him here, tied up and desperately hard. He just pleads with his eyes, breathing deep, forcing his hips to stay still while his cock leaks across his stomach. 

Hiro looks absolutely smitten with himself, like he’s never experienced this much power. Tadashi is genuinely shocked he’s never topped before. It’s clear how much he loves this power of being in control and making older men crumble. 

“He’s never done this with me,” he mumbles, head back on the bed as he finally, _finally_ feels adjusted. Now, he feels filled, and the sensation leads into his stomach. The vibrator reaches so deep, so close to where he wants it. “He never even came in me.”

Hiro exhales, long and deep, at those words. He presses the vibrator deeper, faster, into Tadashi. 

“This isn’t very fair, you know,” Hiro tells him, concentrating on that one spot that has Tadashi whining and moaning. He scoffs, turning up the setting. “You shouldn’t be the only one getting nice and fucked.”

Tadashi is leaking so much; when Hiro reaches out to stroke him, he coats his entire hand. It’s so filthy—so goddamn filthy, and Hiro revels in it as he reaches behind himself, pressing two fingers into his tight hole. The slickness of the lube he used before offers some ease, but not much. Hiro doesn’t care. His breath hitches, his back arches, and he keeps his eyes focused on Tadashi the entire time he stretches himself.

“My daddy would hate this, if he knew,” he then whispers. He slips his fingers back out, only to move over Tadashi. “You must love that, though, huh? Knowing how mad my daddy will be…”

Tadashi is writhing against the vibrator. For now, Hiro leaves it in but refuses to allow any help as he adjusts himself over Tadashi’s cock. With just one quick motion, he could be sinking down on the man’s thick cock. Tadashi will probably come, instantly, he thinks.

“You’re going to fuck me, ‘Dashi,” Hiro says, calmly; “and, you’re going to love it.”

Tadashi feels himself get closer to the edge, but stops to appreciate Hiro’s body. He’s perfect, and there’s no denying it. Tadashi bites his lip, eyes raking down the boy’s chest, drinking in the sight of Hiro about to fuck himself on his cock.

The hesitation is torture. Tadashi wants to beg, and he knows Hiro would fucking love that. And, truthfully, Tadashi is turned on knowing Krei would flip, if he saw this, right now.

Hiro’s eyes are closed, and he focuses on touching himself. The fucking vibrator is still on the lowest setting. Tadashi wants to ask to turn it up so badly, knowing they’d both feel it once Hiro is being fucked. He notes how Hiro’s puffy lips are parted, how his dark eyelashes flutter against his pretty cheeks. He’s so beautiful. 

And, Tadashi is so screwed. 

His heart jumps when Hiro moves to sit on him, and Tadashi makes eye contact. Hiro is still smug and grinning, while Tadashi stares with a pleading expression. 

“T-Turn it up higher, Hiro,” he whispers. “Please. So, you feel it, too.”

It’s only when Hiro is fully seated on Tadashi’s cock that he realizes the man isn’t wearing a condom. It’s hot. Raw. Hiro feels so spread open, just completely split by Tadashi’s cock that he has to breathe in, over and over, until tears leak from his eyes, and he’s panting.

“You don’t—don’t deserve it,” Hiro proclaims, hips moving up Tadashi’s cock. “You’re gonna come inside me. Gonna fill me all up, ‘Dashi.”

Tadashi groans and watches Hiro’s small body bounce up and down his cock. His wrists writhe, brows knit. Hiro arches his back, twisting himself as he places his hands on Tadashi’s hips and sets a pace. It’s only when Tadashi bucks his hips that Hiro decides the man deserves a reward.

He turns the vibrator to the highest setting. The waves rush through Tadashi’s stiff body, vibrating into Hiro and making him pause, completely. 

“ _Nngh_ , Tadashi…” Hiro pants. “Can’t—move.”

He buckles over. It’s too intense. Too amazing.

“Come on,” Tadashi urges. His bound wrists rub against Hiro’s thighs. “Come on, baby.”

Tadashi can’t believe he’s strung together a coherent sentence. He’s filled and being fucked, while also feeling the warmth and rawness of Hiro. The vibrations are right on his prostate, and he’s so desperate to grasp at Hiro’s pretty little hips to keep him down, so the boy feels all of Tadashi’s come inside him.

Hiro’s not even moving, though. He’s fully seated but bent over with his forehead on Tadashi’s chest. It’s this, the image of Hiro’s submission, that sends him over. Tadashi loves that Hiro is so at his mercy. He feels this good because of them, and what they’re doing. 

“Gonna come in you,” he pants as a warning, voice strained. “ _Fuck_ , fuck…”

One minuscule movement of Hiro’s hips has Tadashi releasing, spilling into Hiro’s tightness, so much that it seeps back out and down his cock. Every vibration milks more from him. Every movement Hiro makes has Tadashi shaking, and his vision is white. 

When Hiro moves, now, there’s a filthy sound. Tadashi’s lips part. He’s so sensitive, muscles still jerking, but Hiro continues to ride him, and Tadashi is still hard. Hiro slides in and out so much easier, and it’s so dirty how he’s covered in come and varying his speeds. Tadashi loves when he sinks down, slowly, as if to feel every inch of cock inside of him. 

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Tadashi murmurs in Hiro’s ear when the boy bends back over. “You’re so good, Hiro. Holy shit.”

Hiro is still clenching around Tadashi’s cock, riding the euphoria of the man’s orgasm as he pants and stares, eyes wide, down at Tadashi. Tadashi could go again. Could go three times, even. Tadashi is momentarily scared of Hiro. The vibrator is still on, still hitting Tadashi just right. When Hiro catches Tadashi moving his hips, the boy reaches down, ripping out the vibrator and clicking it off. Lips curving into a smile, he stays positioned on Tadashi’s cock.

“You’re still hard...” he whispers.

Hiro grabs the end of the tie, pulling his knot free. Tadashi instantly reaches out to caress his hips, his chest. It’s almost sweet, Hiro considers— _almost_. But, moreover, it’s pathetic.

Hiro falls backward onto the bed, feeling Tadashi’s cock slip from his stretched hole. A considerable amount of come leaks from him, and he keeps his legs spread.

“Fuck me, Tadashi,” he demands, grabbing at the man’s wrist. “I want you to fuck me the right way.”

He laughs, coldly, before stroking at his cock. He’s not even _close_ to coming, but he feels filthy; stretched and used.

Tadashi doesn’t wait. He rolls over and cages Hiro’s body with his own, until their cocks are brushing. He kisses Hiro, but it’s dirty, not sweet. He still feels like his insides are humming with vibration. Tadashi takes Hiro’s wrists and pulls the boy’s hands around him, so Hiro has to cling, to him. 

It doesn’t take any preparation to slide into Hiro again. Tadashi groans, lowly, in Hiro’s ear and concentrates on every inch of his cock being constricted. Hiro’s face falls from his look of superiority. 

Tadashi moves his hips—slowly, at first—until Hiro’s ankles hook around his back and settle below his spine. Then, Tadashi gets straight to fucking Hiro into the mattress. He can’t believe how _good_ it feels. He’s so entranced by it, and he reaches below them and pulls Hiro apart, stretching him even more and getting a good look at how well he’s taking cock. 

This is much better that watching Hiro ride him, he decides. A lot better.

He takes Hiro’s wrists again and pins them down. Tadashi starts to ram into him without restraint, so Hiro feels properly used. He feels the boy shiver and shake, and he knows they’re both about to come.

“You love this so much,” he teases against Hiro’s skin.

Hiro throws his head back and lets his hips thrust into Tadashi’s. Tadashi is losing himself in how amazing it feels to be on top of Hiro, dominating him. When he pins Hiro down, unwilling to let him move, at all, Hiro lets out a whimper. It’s too much. His orgasm coats his stomach, and he yells. For a second time, Tadashi releases inside Hiro. It’s so fucking _wet_ between them.

“God, Tadashi,” Hiro pants. “Tadashi… You came—so much.”

Hiro reaches down, feeling where Tadashi is still buried deep. He’s leaking all around the width of the man’s cock, completely soaked. Even the bed sheets are damp. He gasps at the sensitivity when Tadashi begins to pull out, almost crying out in pain.

He’s lost more than half his vocabulary, by now. The same string of words keep repeating as his chest heaves. He’s actually sweating and, for a long moment, he can’t even open his eyes because he feels too lost. He thinks about where he is—in Tadashi’s dorm, miles from home—and wonders what his father must be doing, right now. Maybe he’s just getting off work. Maybe he’s texted Hiro, even called him, wondering where he is and why he isn’t home. He’ll know, Hiro thinks. Immediately. What will he do, now that so much is out in the open? 

Hiro falls back to reality, only now realizing that Tadashi has settled beside him, pushing close and running his hands through Hiro’s hair. He gazes back at the man, face flushed, before he buries his face against Tadashi’s shoulder, half-unwilling to look at him, half-too flustered to even try.

Tadashi feels more winded than he can ever remember being in his life. Hiro’s hair is soft, and wet from how much he’s exerted himself. Hiro’s exhausted because of him, and it ignites a little thrill in his stomach. It only intensifies as Hiro snuggles closer. 

Should the silence bother Hiro? It’s peaceful but terrifying, and Tadashi doesn’t know what any of this means. It’s not as if they actually feel anything, for each other. Casual sex is meant to be casual, but Hiro’s warmth against his skin suggests something else. He presses his lips to Hiro’s head, not necessarily kissing it so much as just craving the closeness of it. 

He starts drawing patterns on Hiro’s back. It’s still shocking how small Hiro is, how delicate. His entire hand takes up about three-fourths of Hiro’s body.

“Do you wanna go home?” Tadashi asks, quietly, though the words reverberate in his chest and through Hiro’s skin. “You can stay here, if you want. I mean, if you don’t wanna see him just yet.”

Hiro pulls away a bit. “Don’t get sentimental,” he remarks.

Rationally, he knows he’ll want to go home. Eventually. He’ll yearn to leave Tadashi’s annoying, clingy presence and get back to his father. They’ll fight. Scream. Alistair will call him names, and Hiro will cackle. But, whether it be tonight or tomorrow morning, he knows they’ll wind up in bed, angrily staking their claim upon one another.

Hiro starts to laugh. He presses into Tadashi’s shoulder, giggling, almost madly, until he rolls back over to look up at Tadashi.

“I told you that you made a good top,” he tells the man, a single eyebrow raised. “God. You can fuck so well, ‘Dashi.”

Hiro gives slanted smirk as he reaches down between Tadashi’s legs, feeling the man’s now soft cock, which is wet from his own come. Tadashi exhales but continues to stroke at his back, pulling Hiro closer.

“Does it really feel that good to have come inside you?” Tadashi asks.

It’s a natural reflex that Hiro clenches his sore, used muscles when he hears Tadashi’s question. A second later, Tadashi’s hand is reaching down, swiping the leaking come from his thighs. He probably wants him to clean up, rather than stain the sheets. Hiro is familiar enough with that concept. After all, Alistair is always quick to clean him up so that their mess doesn’t get all over the expensive satin bed sheets.

“It feels amazing,” Hiro tells him. “Too good not to want all the time.”

Hiro gasps when Tadashi’s fingers brush against his hole. If Tadashi keeps this up, he’ll be hard again in minutes. He wouldn’t mind getting fucked again. But, Tadashi has probably already forgotten what it’s like to have a boner every ten minutes, considering he’s been busy fucking an old man the past few months.

“God,” he breathes out; “I can’t believe your professor has never come inside you. Maybe he has some gross disease, or something.”

Tadashi furrows his brow. “He’d tell me,” he assures.

Sometimes, Robert talks about the AIDS crisis, but Tadashi knows he’s referring to his friends who were affected. The man simply wishes to respect the ideals of safe sex, after all he’s witnessed. The very first time Tadashi had suggested foregoing a condom, he almost ruined their entire night. It was then that their ideas of sex were never going to entirely match up. Robert is more traditional, and that’s exactly why he’s never involved himself with a student before. 

“Are you hard again?” Tadashi teases, rubbing Hiro’s hole when he notes his changing facial expression. Hiro looks so vulnerable, for just a split second. “Jesus. I knew younger kids had fast recovery, but you must have practice.” 

“Plenty of it,” Hiro tells him, lowly. He pulls away from Tadashi’s touch to concentrate on the man’s expression. “My dad loves fucking me, all night. He does _everything_ , to me. Has your professor ever rimmed you? I love when my daddy spreads my legs and uses his tongue on me. He can push in so deep, and it feels _so_ good.”

That same laugh, bizarrely calculated, properly detached, escapes from his lips as he snakes his hand down Tadashi’s chest. He wonders how the hell Tadashi keeps in such good shape.

“You’re so funny,” he then says, leaning back down against Tadashi’s chest. “The way you look all jealous, right now. You must hate the idea of my daddy fucking me, huh? It’s too good to give up, ‘Dashi. I’m sure you understand.”

Tadashi narrows his eyes, just slightly. Hiro is obviously trying for a reaction; he’s not being subtle. He wants Tadashi to get jealous, to prove his worth. He certainly wants to, but he doesn’t want Hiro to feel like his manipulation tactics actually work. So, instead, he puts on a thoughtful expression.

“Mm, Robert and I have never tried rimming,” he admits. “It sounds okay. I don’t see what’s so great about it, though.”

He gives the smallest of smirks and rolls to cage Hiro in, elbows on either side of his tiny body and putting the slightest amount of weight on his chest. 

“Why? Are you trying to make me jealous?” he teases, and Hiro looks like he’s trying to predict every movement. “That’s cute, babe. But, I’m not jealous of a kid fucker.”

Hiro raises a brow. “I bet I could get both of you in bed at the same time,” he decides to say, shrugging against the mattress. “Two thick cocks inside of me, at once? My dream, ‘Dashi.”

And, just like that, Hiro is still managing the upper-hand. Tadashi frowns with nausea and thinks back to how Alistair Krei’s hand felt on shoulder, his chin. He wonders if the man’s cock is really as big as Hiro claims. Would it even be _possible_ to double-penetrate Hiro? The kid takes cock better than any porn star he’s ever seen, and he has to admit that the image is appealing. Tadashi revels in the fantasy of his cock rubbing against another, just barely inside Hiro’s tight little hole. They’d stretch him so wide, so impossibly far, and Hiro would drool and be unable to speak. 

“Tell me about today,” Hiro then sighs out. It’s not really casual—just inquisitive—but, the change of subject still has Tadashi blinking, struggling. “I’m—surprised my dad didn’t have you murdered. Considering— _well_ , you know about us.”

Tadashi rolls onto his back, and Hiro follows, using his chest as a pillow. “I got to the point,” he admits, sheepishly. Hiro scoffs, like the animosity between the two men is just some funny joke. “I could tell he was trying not to incriminate himself, but he started to gloat, and I…”

He closes his eyes and tries to understand how Alistair Krei was barely fazed by someone’s knowledge of his affair with his own son. It’s like he knew it didn’t matter; he _knew_ Tadashi would leave, overpowered by him.

“It was fucked up, Hiro,” Tadashi admits. “When I’m with Robert, he doesn’t try to use his power against me. But, your dad—he knew he could manipulate me.”

Hiro knows what Tadashi is suggesting. He wants to know how often Alistair uses some kind of twisted power dynamic to control Hiro. It’s too tiring to attempt and explain how misguided that all is, how wrong. Tadashi is just a dumb, young kid who still doesn’t understand so much. His relationship with his professor has been distracted by his intrigue for Hiro’s bold sexuality. It’s almost easier, Hiro realizes, to play with a naïve teenager like Tadashi, compared to all the closeted fags he’s encountered in the past. They might’ve always had something to hide, something that was easy to manipulate, but Tadashi has genuine emotions that are just—if not, more—pliable.

Hiro sits up, stretching. He asks Tadashi for a wet towel, then reaches for the floor to dig out his phone from his pants pocket.

“Callaghan still plenty fucks with your head,” he murmurs as Tadashi gets up from the bed, pulling on his pants before he heads for his cramped bathroom.

There’s not a single text or voicemail on Hiro’s phone. The boy frowns and snaps the device shut. Tadashi catches the disappointed look just as he returns and hands Hiro the towel.

“Does he know you’re here?”

“He’ll find out,” Hiro offers, cryptically, as he tidies himself. “I’m not too concerned.”

Tadashi pauses and watches Hiro dress. As disturbingly close as Hiro and his father appear, Tadashi knows there’s a whole lot Krei will never know about his son. And, vice versa. Hiro seems to remain completely oblivious to the real details behind Alistair Krei’s sordid past with Robert Callaghan.

Then again, if he doesn’t know, how would the knowledge affect Hiro? Would it push Hiro into some kind of wild rage? Hiro already resents Robert’s connection, to Tadashi. Would he start to act more callous toward Robert and become more actively vindictive? It makes Tadashi uneasy, but there’s a strange bout of pride in the whole thing, too.

“Do you know, Hiro?” he asks, softly, almost expecting not to be heard. But, Hiro turns and straightens out his shirt as he raises an eyebrow in question. “Do you know about them? Your father and Robert?”

Hiro throws the hand towel on Tadashi’s nightstand and glances back up at the man. “Did your sugar daddy finally admit what was so bad and awful about my dad?” he says. “Well, it’s either a stolen invention, or Callaghan tried to suck his dick. So, which is it?”

“Um, both? Maybe?”

Tadashi grimaces. He hasn’t received any confirmation on exactly _what else_ caused such an ugly ending to the affair, but Tadashi has theories. If Alistair Krei isn’t above fucking his son, he certainly isn’t above stealing ideas from a renowned robotics genius.

“Robert told me,” Tadashi explains. “They were involved. Like, they lived together. Your dad didn’t want to come out, and something happened, and they—it didn’t end well.”

Hiro starts to laugh. Loudly. He shakes his head and continues to dress before he catches Tadashi’s expression.

“Wait, what?” he exasperates. He’s still smiling through the words, all in disbelief. “ _What_? Your—he—Callaghan _told_ you this?”

Tadashi stares back at him. “He just always seemed to have such a grudge against your dad, and he finally told me why.”

And, then, Hiro’s heart sinks.

When Alistair was explaining his flings with men, he was talking about Robert Callaghan. He was the one—the one who first topped Alistair. It’s remarkably clear, now, and Hiro feels gutted. He moves away from Tadashi.

Alistair and Robert Callaghan _lived_ together. Meaning, they were partners, committed. _God._ There was a time when Hiro used to wonder if Alistair viewed their relationship that way.

Clearly, he didn’t. Doesn’t.

How could he, when he had something as important as his relationship with Callaghan to which to compare? If Alistair saw Callaghan as his partner, what does he think of Hiro as?

“You’re lying,” Hiro spews.

Tadashi bites his lip. He’s tempted, so tempted, to kiss Hiro and tell him not to worry about it; but, he’s never seen the boy this way. He can’t be certain how Hiro will react to physical touch.

“I’m not lying,” he tells him, carefully. “I just thought you should know; I’m not trying to hurt you.”

It’s always been obvious, Hiro thinks. He can’t believe he never took the time to thinkabout it beyond a joke, because it all makes a stupid amount of sense. But, _how_? How have Alistair and Tadashi both been seduced by Robert Callaghan? What could possibly be so entertaining about that old man? Does he really suck cock that well for Hiro’s own father to have wanted him, back in the day?

_Or, now…?_

And, that hurts Hiro most of all. What if Alistair still carries a flame, for Callaghan? What if this whole thing has been about Callaghan? Hiro clenches his fists and moves away from Tadashi.

“I should go,” he says.

Tadashi flinches. “You aren’t going to try and find Robert, are you?” 

“No! _God_ , I don’t want to talk to that stupid, old geezer,” Hiro remarks, coldly. He shoves his phone in his pocket and starts to head toward the door. “I’m going home, Tadashi. I need to talk to my dad.”

Hiro rips open the door, and Tadashi attempts one last reconciliation—“You can call me, if you need to,” he rushes out—but, Hiro is moving too fast, too stubbornly.

Tadashi wonders if he just made this all irrevocably worse.


	7. Chapter 7

A block away from the penthouse, Hiro receives the inevitable phone call from his father.

He stares at the name of the contact lighting up across his screen—Daddy ♥︎—and, immediately, clenches the device harder. The last time his father called him was when he asked Hiro to come to his office, when he initially made the request for Hiro to get to know Tadashi.

Hiro doesn’t hesitate when he hits _Reject_.

He doesn’t need to be screamed at over the phone. Not when, in just a few minutes, he’s going to be facing him in person. Besides, Hiro enjoys the idea of his father seeing that the call was declined. It’ll make him angrier, and he fucking deserves it.

How _could_ he? How _could_ he keep his stupid affair with Robert a secret, for all this time? How did Hiro not see it? He feels humiliated and stupid, and the twinge of upset that is raging in his chest is so unfamiliar that it nearly makes Hiro sick.

This changes everything. Alistair has kept this to himself for very obvious reasons. He didn’t want Hiro to know, because he knew his son would realize just how important that relationship had been, what it meant. They were partners. And, what is Hiro? Just an easy fuck to hide away and do his dirty work? Hiro eliminated his mother before she could drain the man’s bank account and smear his image with her copious affairs; they sold her death as an untimely tragedy. Less than a year later, Alistair is convincing Hiro to seduce some college kid in order to get a revolutionary invention, whose creator just _happens_ to have strong ties to an old flame.

Alistair acted as though he was surprised by the affair, but what if he wasn’t? What if that was the whole reason Alistair pinned Hiro on Tadashi, to cause a rift between student and professor?

Inside, Hiro gives a nod of acknowledgement to the doorman and heads for the elevator. The ride feels long and almost ominous. He stares at his phone again and considers texting Tadashi. But, he doesn’t know what to say. He’s not even sure he left on good terms, despite Tadashi’s proclamation he could message him, if needed. It still feels too forced. Hiro doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to initiate the first text.

The penthouse door is unlocked. Hiro takes a breath, counts— _one, two_ —then, pushes open the door. He’s surprised when Alistair isn’t standing directly in the living room. The scene before him is the exact opposite of what he expected: Quiet, calm. 

But, the second he starts to advance through the space, he hears Alistair.

His father is standing in the dining room, a glass of whiskey in hand. Hiro opens his mouth to speak, but can’t seem to bring himself to it. Already, there’s too much tension, and he’s drowning in it. When he parts his lips, he can feel it seeping down his throat, and he turns to walk away. A second later, Alistair grabs at Hiro’s wrist and yanks him back toward him.

“Where the _hell_ were you?” he demands.

It comes out as a violent, demanding hiss. Hiro’s eyes flicker with curiosity and, while there’s no satisfied smirk on his face just yet, it’s completely obvious where he’s been, what he’s been doing. He reeks of sex. His hair is disheveled more than usual. There’s a distant, particular glow across his features that Alistair knows only he’ll ever notice, and it _hurts._ It fucking stings. Alistair feels like his suit is constricting against his body when he lets go of Hiro’s wrist and turns to pour himself more whiskey. He wishes he had already gotten drunk. Perhaps this would hurt less. But, _silly him_ , he had managed to convince himself that, maybe, Hiro wasn’t with Tadashi, that maybe he had left the penthouse for something else.

_How fucking idiotic…_

Alistair pours whiskey. More than half a glass. Hiro catches the animosity in the man’s expression and leans against the counter, acting coy.

“Goddammit, Hiro,” Alistair seethes out, and he’s shaking, but he can’t even _look_ at his son, right now. “Why? _Why_? I thought it was over. I thought you didn’t _care_ about him, that you wanted us to—”

Alistair stops himself. Hiro has already humiliated him enough; the last thing Alistair wants to do is spill out his unrequited emotions to the boy who continues to lead him on and act like an innocent child about the whole thing. _Christ._ He’s such a fool. Alistair warned himself it was all fleeting—he fucking _tried_ not to get too hopeful at the change of Hiro’s behavior—but, like always, Hiro is retracting, and Alistair is in agony.

“Jesus Christ,” Hiro exasperates. “Don’t you ever get tired of acting like a groveling faggot?”

His voice, although steady, is laced with an unfamiliar tone. It’s nowhere near as sardonic as either anticipates, and he stares up at his father with a stoic expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me about you and Callaghan?”

Hiro watches as Alistair’s eyes slip shut. He takes a hearty, concentrated gulp of the liquor and winces. Alistair doesn’t care if it burns, right now. He doesn’t care if he wakes up with another hangover, tomorrow. He’s livid. _Of course_ Tadashi blabbed. It was probably his only defense after coming back from the meeting, defeated and miserable. The stupid idiot must know, now, that he’s no different than Alistair. He still susceptible to a young boy’s charms. Tadashi gave into him just _how_ many hours after he proclaimed what a pervert Alistair was for his affairs with the boy? What a joke. Tadashi is _worse_ , because he’s a goddamn hypocrite. Self-righteous and _idiotic_.

Alistair tightens his grip on the glass. “I’m not surprised he told you.”

“Why didn’t _you_ tell me?” Hiro repeats. His voice gets stronger, angrier. “Why the fuck does Tadashi know something about you that I don’t?”

“My past isn’t any of your goddamn business,” he says. He knows it’s cold, that he would never have used this tone three weeks ago, but he can’t help it. Hiro is not entitled to know everything about him, especially when he comes home, smelling like sex and betrayal. “Get over it, Hiro.”

Hiro flinches and immediately lashes out. “You were hiding it!” he yells. He slams his hands on the kitchen counter. “You were _purposely_ hiding it. Why? What was there to hide? Do you still love him? Is that why you’re so pissed and jealous about Tadashi? Did it have nothing to do with me and everything to do—with _him_?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Alistair barks back. “I couldn’t care less about Robert fucking a student.”

The defense changes nothing, for Hiro. He hates knowing there was a life that Alistair and Robert Callaghan shared. Did they have a house? A dog? Did they wake up every morning and have passionate sex and go off to brunch each Sunday? How often does Alistair think about him? Has he ever thought about him during sex with Hiro?

“Tell me what happened,” Hiro demands. “You obviously left his pathetic ass, so have you spent every waking moment of your life, regretting it since?”

Hiro is too close. _That smell_ is too close. Alistair has to move away before he does something he regrets. His words will do.

“What if I said yes?” he taunts. “What if I told you that, instead of trying to make a smart goddamn business move, I was actually trying to get my beloved Robert Callaghan back in bed? Would it make you any less of a slut for going out of your way to sleep with Hamada, today?”

Hiro’s facial expression is one he wants to frame and keep forever. It’s remarkably satisfying.

“You’re a scheming little whore who can’t keep cock out of his mouth; so, what does it matter? Why would you even care what I did twenty years ago? Clearly, Hiro, it didn’t work out! So, don’t try and act betrayed about something that hasn’t been real in over two decades, all because you can’t imagine something not being about yourself!”

“That’s _not_ why!” Hiro yells, and he shoves Alistair backward. Enough liquor spills from the glass to have the man slamming it down, and he glares back at his son. “You should’ve told me! I told you everything about my mom! About what she did! We’re not supposed to have secrets!”

Hiro’s voice is cracking, and Alistair so foolishly wants to believe there’s an authenticity to it. _But, no_ …He’s simply patronizing his father for an affair that isn’t even close to being relevant anymore, mere hours after sleeping with someone else. It’s manipulative. Cruel. And, yet, the boy is moving closer, collecting those fine illusions of emotions and pulling at Alistair’s lapels.

“I was going to tell you about today,” Hiro assures him. “I did it, for us. He’s not going to say anything, now, okay? Maybe we can even still get Baymax. It’s not completely out of the question, since I still have _quite_ the hold on him.”

“You don’t _need_ a hold on him,” Alistair argues. “I don’t want the deal, Hiro. I don’t care about that robot. It’s over, and you knewthat, yet you _still_ fucked him.”

Alistair downs another shot. He reaches for the bottle, determined to dull the wrenching of his heart, but Hiro intercepts. He grabs at his father’s wrist and forces the man to look at him. Alistair is teetering on the edge of another meltdown. He probably wants to yell, scream. Hiro starts to move his fingers down, brushing at his father’s hand, his fingers.

“This is ludicrous,” Alistair breathes out; however, he doesn’t move away.

“Tadashi told me you laid on the charms,” Hiro says. His tone is much softer, now, but not necessarily seductive. “Why? Because you actually want him, too, or because you’re jealous that I can still get him in bed? He’s getting better, you know. Real good.”

Hiro’s fingers are entwining with his father’s, but Alistair doesn’t feel the warmth. He can only concentrate on that vicious, vicious scent of another man. Nausea sweeps him.

“I bet he would’ve say yes, to you, if I were there,” Hiro whispers. “I could’ve had you both, at once. I think I’d quite like that, Daddy.”

And, it begins. They’ve been through this routine time and time again. Alistair’s jealousy leads to sex; Hiro giggles, and they both forget. Not this time. No, he swears, not this time. 

“I’d rather disown you,” he sneers.

He can’t imagine his cock rubbing against Hamada’s without wanting to vomit. Alistair grabs his drink from the counter and pointedly walks away, so Hiro knows his sexual advances are getting him nowhere.

“You will never appreciate all that I’ve done to keep you here,” Alistair says through gritted teeth. “Do you understand the process of legal adoption? Because I didn’t. I had to circumvent that, for you. Do you understand how terrifying it was to file for, just days after what happened to your mother? The fear, the guilt, the paranoia? Do you have _any_ idea, Hiro?”

Hiro watches Alistair move into the living room. He has his back turned, but Hiro can see his shoulders tightening, his body heaving. He wonders how long it will be before the alcohol has his father stumbling and submitting to advances that will, soon, be effortless.

“You still agreed to get rid of her.” Hiro’s voice is faraway, controlled. “That was our choice. We made it—together.”

Which is exactly why, now, Alistair’s attempt to shift the blame has Hiro furious. Hiro had, indeed, been the one to initiate it. That has never been a debate. But, Hiro knows the man wanted her gone just as much, and it had been them, _together_ , who set the plan into motion. The confidence that had once felt unshakable, to Hiro, is now cracking. It’s as though Alistair has forgotten the extent of Maemi’s cruelty, how it only would’ve continued. How long would it have been until their marriage transformed into something far uglier? How long would it have been until she pinned Hiro on other men?

“You’d still be married to that stupid bitch, if it weren’t for me,” he continues. “She would’ve found out you liked dick and smeared your name all over the tabloids. And, you know I could do the same, if I wanted. I could ruin you.”

It’s an empty threat, and Alistair knows it. “You’d never,” he says. “My collapse is yours, and we both know you’d hate not being rich like you are, now.”

A gold digging whore. Just like his mother.

“You don’t deserve any of it,” he then sneers. “You deserve nothing, really—not even my attention, yet you’re standing here, asking for such in-depth descriptions of my past when there’s nothing to even tell.”

“I just want to know!” Hiro insists.

Alistair fumes. “We dated!” he yells, gesturing out his arms as though it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. “We had a—partnership, of the sort. He wanted one thing, and I wanted another. I left. And, perhaps, I took advantage of his forgotten blueprints when I was shopping Krei Tech to investors, but that’s the industry. Satisfied?”

There’s silence. Hiro stares, and Alistair finishes his drink. The tension is still very much in the atmosphere, but neither of them are willing to move. The longer Hiro looks at his father, the more his dull anger transforms into a need for validation.

“So, you don’t still—want him?” Hiro asks, softly. “You don’t think about him, or anything?”

“Christ, Hiro… What do you want me to say? Are you looking for an excuse to continue seeing Hamada?” Alistair laughs, humorlessly, and runs a hand through his bangs. “If you want to continue fucking him, fine. I don’t care. I’m done. I hope his inadequate dick is satisfying, for you.”

Then, Hiro is laughing. He’s leaning against the kitchen island, throwing his head back with laughter before collecting himself enough to stare back at his father, calm. Too calm. It’s that maniacal oddity that dwells so deeply, and it’s what always reminds Alistair how broken this child is, how _lost_.

Hiro meets his father in the living room. Alistair is frozen, too entranced by the boy’s lunacy to really move; and, when he speaks—“Oh, Daddy,” Hiro whispers, eyes narrowed with a smirk on his lips—he pushes himself forward and into his father’s chest. 

“I still love fucking you the most,” he insists, easily.

Hiro giggles. It’s cold and calculating.  Alistair remains stiff.

“Hiro,” he exhales; “do you even understand how much you— _scare_ me…?”

That power, that control. So much of it—all of it—belongs, solely, to Hiro. It’s petrifying. And, what does Hiro fear? Being alone? He’ll never be alone. Not when he keeps playing with hearts, manipulating emotions to his advantage. It’s not as though Alistair will ever have the courage to leave.

But, Alistair can at least keep his earlier promise: No sex. Not tonight.

 _Not ever again_.

“I can’t do this,” Alistair mutters, almost helplessly as a sad, twisted smile graces his lips. “I can’t keep fucking my son. I never should have touched you, Hiro.”

It’s all so warped, now. It’s always been. Hiro is a child, a victim, and Alistair has done nothing but further exploit his abuse. Instead, he blinded himself to the reality, because Hiro seduced him. Talked about sex and how it made him feel. Alistair remembers the first time Hiro straddled him, clothed, and rubbed, desperately, until he came. Alistair pictures that same, flushed, desperate face: Lips parted, drool down the corner of his mouth, eyes almost crossing in pleasure. And, he knows Hiro is recalling the start to all this, too, because he’s staring up at him, pouting, and pulling at his tie in that careful, habitual way.

“Are you forgetting how things really went down?” he asks.  “The way you kept looking at me; the way I kept looking at you.  There was no way we weren’t going to end up in bed together, Daddy.”

“Stop,” Alistair commands, and he breathes in just enough of Hamada to have him pulling away so quickly that he nearly stumbles. “Please, just stop. We can’t keep doing this, Hiro.”

He’s walking away. He’s ignoring Hiro’s attempts at further seduction. All Alistair can focus on, now, is how Tadashi Hamada touched Hiro, kissed him, made him _come_. And, he senses, behind those closed doors, in a world only Hiro and Tadashi know, something far more intimate transpired. Whether it was hushed, cherished words, or a simple consent of foregoing a condom and feeling _all_ of each other, Alistair doesn’t want to know. He _doesn’t_.

This particular hammering of his heart isn’t familiar, Alistair realizes. It’s certainly not normal, for a father thinking of his son. But, of course it isn’t, because they _aren’t_ normal. They are incredibly, monstrously fucked up, and Alistair doesn’t know if that can ever be fixed. There’s too much wreckage between them.

But, as he disappears upstairs, Alistair is starting to imagine a night without falling into bed with his son.

* * *

It’s been ten months, two weeks and four days since Hiro last slept in his own bedroom. Hiro’s been counting the days since his mother’s death with a type of silent, celebratory ease, but he still wakes up, some days, convinced the whole thing has been a dream.

That very impression hits Hiro when he wakes up on the foreign, stiff mattress. Around him, the impersonal décor feels starker than he remembers, and Hiro realizes he’s spent most of the night tossing and turning. He’s exhausted.

Alistair has never outright rejected him before, not even when Hiro first started to make his intentions known. His father would become flustered and tense, and there were excuses, back then—“Your mother will be home soon,” he’d say, or he’d offer a stern but gentle call of Hiro’s name—but, always, the boy could sense just how much Alistair _wanted it._

Not last night. Alistair looked tormented, afraid of himself and even more afraid of Hiro. He looked sick with fear at the prospect of giving into his son again, and his proclamations of ending their affair felt all too real.

Hiro rolls over in bed. The bedroom door is open, and the blinds are drawn. He squints toward the window, where orange hues are glaring into the space, and groans, miserably. San Fransokyo’s calming skyline isn’t enough to lure Hiro out of bed, but the noise coming from downstairs—drawers and cabinets slamming—certainly has the boy wide awake. Alistair isn’t subtle; he’s trying to force Hiro to get up before noon. It’s almost childish, really, and Hiro certainly wouldn’t be caving to it, except he’s enticed by the distant smell of eggs and coffee.

Begrudgingly, he peels himself from the sheets and walks downstairs.

Alistair is dressed and ready for the day. His suit jacket is slung over the couch, and he’s sipping at his coffee as he reads over something on his phone. He looks up when he hears Hiro’s bare feet padding against the kitchen tile.

“Morning,” he greets.

Alistair’s voice is strained, and he tries not to hold his gaze too long, because he knows, if he does, he’s just going to focus on how angelic Hiro looks with his rosy cheeks and bed head. His pajamas, including those tight, undersized shorts, are wrinkled from sleeping in odd positions, and Alistair inhales.

 _No_. No, he’s done with that, now.

He averts his eyes as Hiro takes a seat at the dining room table. Condiments are already laid out, so the boy can’t ask for anything, and Alistair is quick to place a plate of eggs in front of his son before he has a chance to speak.

“How did you sleep?” Alistair asks.

Hiro wants to laugh. This is asinine, he thinks. Does his father actually think this is what their relationship is like, now? _Please_. It won’t last. Alistair will get lonely, desperate, and he’ll cave to Hiro’s seductions. They’re just having a fight. Hiro has never thought of them as a _couple_ , but maybe it doesn’t matter; everyone fights and argues. This is just some kind of weird hiccup in their relationship.

“I slept fine,” Hiro replies, but he’s rolling his eyes. “It was kind of hot in my room, though. I don’t think the central air is working.”

Alistair makes a thoughtful noise as he takes a seat adjacent to his son, then says he’ll look into it. They fall into a brief silence. Hiro pushes his eggs around the plate. Alistair sips at his coffee.

“I don’t plan to be home late,” he then says; “but, if I am, you should order something, for dinner.”

Hiro scoffs. “Or, you can bring me home something,” he says.

They lock eyes, carefully. It’s a game, Alistair considers; even more so than it was before. They’ve always battled each other for power. For so long, it’s what made their relationship so heated, so good. But, it’s a different kind of power, this morning. Alistair is fighting to regain some sense of normalcy. Only, as far as Hiro is concerned, that’s the absolute last option, for them. He refuses to lose Alistair Krei in this way. He’d sooner sabotage the man, just out of spite, and it’s not as though such a feat would be complicated.

Hiro knows Alistair’s deepest secrets. He has information that could very well destroy the man. One phone call, and it’s over. No one would actually believe Hiro was the vixen. Certainly no one would believe he was the one who ordered the hit on Maemi.

“You can stop this, now,” Hiro then breathes out. “It’s idiotic. We both know you’ll never be able to keep it up.”

Alistair picks up his phone again. “I think you ought to start speaking, to me, with respect, Hiro,” he tells him. “I’m the parent, and you’re the child.”

Hiro stares, affronted. He’s probably never even heard that phrase before. Alistair doesn’t know whether that’s humorous, or tragic. Regardless, he keeps his emotions at bay and switches to the stock market app on his phone to get a brief preview of the day. Luckily, his competitors haven’t been doing well, lately.

“These eggs suck, by the way” Hiro mutters. He’s scraping his fork against the plate harder than necessary. “You know I like milk added, to them.”

Hiro is just grasping at straws. He wants Alistair to cave, to hate being a real father enough to go back to bed with his son. But, Alistair is not that easy. He’s not going to let Hiro take advantage of him again. Alistair swears it, over and over in his head, to make it true. 

He decides to end breakfast early.

“Wash your plate, when you’re done,” he tells him, standing.

“Are you going to tell me to make my bed, too?” Hiro asks. “Isn’t that what the maid is for?”

He laughs beneath his breath and wonders, distantly, what the maid will even think of having to make two beds, instead of just one. She doesn’t always tend to the master bedroom, as per Alistair’s instructions, but Hiro’s spent enough time lazing around the house in the last year to recognize the woman has her suspicions. Luckily, if her salary wasn’t enough to keep her silent, Alistair’s more than generous Christmas bonus secured her trust for at least another year.

It’s not difficult to sense something is different in the Krei household. Hiro still remembers when they had landscapers over one Saturday morning. The men were installing new light fixtures on the balcony courtyard, and one had commented how he’d never have known the penthouse was just occupied by a single father and his son. “Just doesn’t feel like it,” he had said, and Hiro had laughed, loudly, in the distance as Alistair wrote out a check. 

Later that night, Alistair and Hiro were out on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine as Hiro sat in his father’s lap and stroked him to completion. Hiro still remembers how handsome, how broken Alistair looked underneath the ambient lighting.

Hiro tightens his grip on his fork. “Don’t worry, Dad,” he continues. “I’ll be sure to have a productive day. Maybe I’ll call up Tadashi and see if he wants to spend the day with me.”

Alistair feels his neck heat up and knows, then, that he needs to leave. Does Hamada even know what he’s in for? Is he aware he’s going to suffer at the hands of Hiro’s cruelty while the boy laughs? Alistair would be sympathetic if he didn’t wish nothing but bad fortune on that man.

He turns to Hiro, a smile plastered on his face. “Just be safe,” he says, patronizingly. “You don’t know where that’s been.”

It takes more strength than he’d like to admit to grab his jacket and leave the penthouse without looking back. 

* * *

By Tuesday afternoon, Tadashi still hasn’t touched the assignment for his art history class.

His desk is scattered with printed photos of _Penitent Magdalene_ , as well as several articles he has every intention of using as reference material. The paper due by tomorrow and is his last assignment before next week’s final; but, right now, he has zero motivation to even _start_.

In bed, Tadashi stares at his ceiling and twirls his phone in his hand. The stupid thing hasn’t gone off all day. Robert has probably given up on trying to contact him, and Hiro’s been sporadic in his responses ever since he left, yesterday. The last message Tadashi received from the boy was around three in the morning, and it was just a collection of emojis that Tadashi theorized were supposed to read as a sexual innuendo. 

Tadashi doubts the boy is feeling as humored as the text suggested, but it’s a welcomed attempt. He saw the look of astonishment on Hiro’s face when Tadashi told him the truth; the poor kid was very clearly trying to understand how the hell he missed such a key element in his father’s life.

Tadashi doesn’t regret telling him. Hiro had a right to know. Hell, he should have known _forever_ ago, but his father purposely neglected not to tell him. Probably because he knew it would raise about a hundred questions regarding his past that he didn’t want his son to know about. What a sack of shit.

The whole goddamn thing is such a mess. Tadashi sighs and throws his phone down, frustrated. He’s spent a more than necessary amount of time just pondering exactly what transpired between Robert and Alistair Krei. He wonders if he’ll ever really know. Internet searches have provided nothing. There’s not a sliver of evidence that suggests the two men even know each other.

Occasionally, Tadashi will picture Robert fucking that pedophile, and he’ll feel sick. Other times, he’ll feel a strange rush of arousal. Imagining Robert fucking _anyone_ is a turn on, really; but, in this instance, there’s some twisted satisfaction in imagining Krei being entered dry and hard. 

Did Robert ever fuck him bareback? Did they go to the same fancy restaurants Robert takes Tadashi to, every so often? Did their relationship start in a similar manner, bonding over science and robotics until they couldn’t keep their hands off each other?

Tadashi’s eyes sting with tears. _God._ He can’t figure out why this bothers him so much. He shouldn’t give two fucks about what Robert does, or what sort of past relationships he’s had. It’s none of his business. But, the curiosity remains. Did Robert bottom, for Krei? Was their relationship far more versatile than what Tadashi has with Robert? Did they plan on getting married, or something? Does Robert still long for Krei? Do they _miss_ each other?

_Fuck…_

Tadashi can’t let it go. Anger boils up inside of him. Tadashi knows Robert had been trying to defend Krei, earlier. He probably thinks Hiro is just some seductive whore gunning for the love of his life. Robert didn’t even stop to _think_ about Hiro’s age, or his situation. He probably never cared. Tadashi had been wondering why Robert had so much resentment for the boy and, now, it’s perfectly clear.

He’s jealous. Of a fourteen-year-old. He probably _is_ still caught up on some forgotten romance. It’d explain a lot about Robert’s inability to give proper signals, instead of those mixed, messy ones he’s constantly given Tadashi. What he has with Robert isn’t _real_. It’s an illusion, created by risky fucks in school labs and extra touching after class has been dismissed. What Krei has with Hiro isn’t real, either; it’s wrong, and disgusting, and only reveals abuse. Tadashi supposes his connection with Hiro is the first real relationship he’s ever had and, even then, that’s not saying much.

He’s so fucking frustrated.

Maybe he should text Robert back. Maybe Tadashi should go and talk with him about _before_ , when he was with living all hunky-dory with Alistair Krei. It would help clear up a few things. And, perhaps, he could actually get his professor to help get Hiro away from that fucking creep. In love or not, Robert has to have _some_ semblance of morality left inside his heart. He _has to_ know that letting some kid get taken advantage of by his father is wrong.

Unfortunately, Hiro does make it easy—and, Tadashi hates himself for acknowledging that, but it’s true: The image Hiro presents is that of experience, of daring confidence. It’s easy to get the impression that he knows exactly what he’s doing. In regards to sex, he does, because he knows how to touch and just what to say to get men going. But, it’s rehearsed. It’s been taught, to him. Inside, he’s probably terrified of losing his father, and Tadashi can’t blame him.

Really, Hiro’s had the hardest upbringing he can imagine. Behind all the riches and the smarmy looks, it’s easy for anyone, including Robert, not to see that. 

Tadashi unlocks his phone, then locks it again. He waits two minutes, unlocks it, taps his messaging app, then locks it again.

He probably shouldn’t. He needs distance from Robert, right now. He decided that a few days ago. But, he’s so stressed and so confused and, throughout a good portion of his school year, Tadashi has grown used to running, to Robert, when that happens.

Besides, Tadashi would be goddamn lying if he claimed he didn’t miss Robert’s touch, his warmth. _The sex._ Tadashi thinks about the aggression Hiro unleashed on him and wonders if Robert could do the same. He wishes he could make the condoms disappear, but it’s hopeless. Robert is way too obsessed with safe sex.

Regardless, though, Tadashi needs to get fucked. Again. He rolls his shoulders and kicks his feet out onto the mattress.

He counts to five, then opens the app and taps Robert’s name.

> hey… where are you?  
>  Sent at 2:18 p.m.

Robert immediately calls him.

* * *

After all the ignored calls and texts, Tadashi’s message nearly knocks Robert to the ground. He’s been more than fearful the younger man was simply not going to show up to tomorrow’s class. It’s the last class before finals and, while Robert was willing to bend the rules enough to dismiss the fact Tadashi already skipped Friday, he knows he could not do it again tomorrow. Has Tadashi even been _studying_? Does he care? At the very least, Robert knows the man hasn’t sold Baymax to Krei Tech. There’s no way he would ever do such a thing after his horrific discovery.

Unless, maybe, Alistair and Hiro are blackmailing him.

Maybe that was exactly why Hiro had been so pushy with Tadashi. Maybe he was trying to put the man in a compromising position, so he could threaten him with a lawsuit. Tadashi may now have fodder on Alistair, but Alistair has enough money to make it go away. Tadashi doesn’t.

Robert convinces himself this is exactly what’s happening as he rushes across campus to meet Tadashi in the lab. Their phone conversation is quick, formal, and Robert thinks he even hears Tadashi getting dressed on the other end before they hang up.

He receives a few stares from students who are, undoubtedly, wondering why Professor Callaghan is speeding across campus with a very solemn expression. No one dares to attempt to stop and speak with him.

Tadashi still beats him to the lab, of course. The dorms are much closer than Robert’s office, and the older man is halfway through attempting to brush off how out of breath he is when, without so much as a greeting, Tadashi is pushing him against the wall and kissing him, _hard_.

Robert puts his arms up and steadies himself on the younger man’s shoulders. “Tadashi,” he gasps out. “My goodness. Slow down, will you?”

As much as Robert would love to fall back into this, right now, he knows better. It’s been days since they last talked, and their last conversation was less than pleasant. Robert has to dodge Tadashi’s subsequent attempt to kiss him by pulling himself in the opposite direction.

“We need to talk,” he supplies, evenly.

Tadashi appears affronted as he brings in his lips and collects himself. “I—I don’t want to talk, Robert,” he admits through an aggravated pant. “Not right now.”

Later, Tadashi thinks. Later will do. Right now, he needs to relieve some stress. He needs something quick and intense and _immediate_. They’re not going to get that through _talking_.

“Please?” Tadashi then whispers. He takes a step back toward his professor and reaches out to grab at his sides. “It’s been a long time.”

Robert feels Tadashi’s erection pushing against his thigh, and he struggles to respond. This isn’t what he expected. He thought Tadashi would still be livid with him. He thought, realistically, there would be no need for Tadashi to even _want_ sex, from Robert, when he’s been so busy with Hiro.

And, yet, it doesn’t stop the pleasure that comes with feeling Tadashi’s lips on his and hearing filthy words spill from his mouth. Tadashi’s hands are just as desperate, and Robert hates how, already, his resistance is slipping. But, Tadashi is right: It’s been a long time. Too long. And, Robert has been thinking about this nearly every night since they’ve been apart.

“You know I’m always just a phone call away,” he reminds him, softly. He hesitates before he clutches at Tadashi’s side. “You’re already hard, Tadashi.”

When Robert presses a thigh between the man’s legs, he feels every inch of it. Tadashi is gasping, now, when he pulls at Robert’s lapels, bringing him over to the lab bench.

“What has you all riled up, huh?” Robert decides to ask. It’s low. Undeniably heated. His hands caress the man’s thighs before working their way back up to Tadashi’s hips. “Tough morning, or have you just forgotten what it feels like to have me on you like this?”

“I don’t know,” Tadashi lies. “I just—I want it. I want you.”

Robert laughs and kisses Tadashi. He’s trying to slow the pace, but Tadashi is having none of it as his own hands work at Robert’s belt buckle. He wants Robert, right now. There is something extremely satisfying about riding a thick, warm cock that belongs to a person rather than a toy. He loves being filled either way; but, right now, Tadashi needs the extra heat. Last night was great, but it wasn’t enough. He recognizes that, technically, Hiro could never totally satisfy him.

Tadashi drops to his knees, eager to finally get his mouth around something. Robert is still catching up with his erection but Tadashi helps out, running his tongue along Robert’s cock and smirking up through his lashes.

He’d _love_ to get fucked raw, but he knows it won’t happen, so he just savors this moment when Robert’s cock isn’t covered by latex. He closes his eyes and tries his best to take the man in as far as he can, and he’s pretty impressed by how much he can take. It makes it all the more easier for Robert to lose himself in how amazing it feels to have Tadashi’s mouth back on him, after so many weeks of neglect. He leans forward, pushing into that hot mouth and groaning.

“Tadashi… Shit.”

The only response is a moan and another attempt to go even farther. Robert doesn’t mean to dig his nails into Tadashi’s scalp, pulling at his hair, but when he feels the tip of his cock sliding down the man’s throat, it’s overwhelmingly hot, filthy. Robert gasps and continues to buck his hips forward, thrusting into Tadashi’s mouth.

“You’re too eager, Tadashi,” Robert says with a smirk, laughing when the man gives an almost insulted little whine. “Hold on, hold on. I don’t want—okay, come on, get up.”

He hates how empty he feels when he pulls Tadashi off his cock. It’s a struggle to get Tadashi to his feet, but he manages and, without hesitation, pushes him against the table, pulling at his pants and revealing his smooth, beautiful ass. He rubs at it for a moment or two, squeezing the sensitive skin as his other hand reaches for a condom in his wallet.

“Robert, _please_.”

“You’re trembling,” he whispers. He leans against Tadashi’s back and coats his fingers with the lube of the condom. Tadashi’s hips wiggle and push into the touch, guiding Robert’s fingers between his ass to push into that tight hole. “God, Tadashi. I almost forgot how tight you were… It’s been too long. What have you been thinking about lately, huh?”

“Your cock in me,” he pants, and his breath fogs the surface of the lab table. He’s being explored so deeply and thoroughly, like Robert’s evaluating if he’s been fucked recently. “God, just—Robert, you’re so big. I come _so_ hard when you fuck me. _Ngnh_ , please.”

Tadashi moans, loudly, and presses his forehead against the table. Robert is stretching him so well, more than usual, and he knows the fit of his cock will be slick and easy. 

“Tadashi…”

The name is more breathy than intended, more sentimental; and, he hopes Tadashi doesn’t notice. Tadashi has never been invested in this for the emotions. It’s about sex. Tadashi is young and, up until they met, he was inexperienced, too. His desperations and need to be claimed are juvenile in their own regard. Sooner or later, the man is going to realize this isn’t how relationships are supposed to work. At least, Robert hopes. Alistair Krei’s son has certainly thrown a wrench in that notion. 

Robert uses one hand to guide his cock inside Tadashi, the other to stroke the man’s cock. He feels Tadashi twitch, precome dripping from the tip and leaking over his fingers. It’s amazing how Tadashi writhes for more, pushing into the width of Robert’s thick cock and moaning.

“Fuck,” Robert curses. “You’re so good, you know that? So fuckin’ good.”

He doesn’t hold back, this time. He pushes into Tadashi until he can’t go any farther. It causes Tadashi to flail and whine, especially when Robert refuses to move. Instead, he focuses on that incredible tightness, the heat that is pulling him in and constricting around him, again and again. He could come from this alone, he thinks.

“Come on,” Tadashi begs. “Robert, please move. I want it.”

Robert thumbs over Tadashi’s cock, finally pulling a few inches out so that he can sink back in, rough and hard. He feels Tadashi twitch—not entirely out of pleasure—and, it’s dangerous how much Robert revels in that one particular moan. He doesn’t want to admit his anger toward Tadashi, his resentment. But, Robert knows Tadashi has still been spending time with that goddamn kid, and it’s disgusting. Unfair. How can a fourteen year-old child possibly compare to a grown man? Hiro could never break Tadashi this way. Hiro could never have Tadashi begging and moaning—could he?

He slams his cock into Tadashi harder than intended. He hears the lab bench scrape against the tile, Tadashi’s hips banging into the edges. He does it again, and again. Tadashi cries out every time, and it only makes Robert harder.

God. Tadashi is so fucking tight.

Robert drops his hand from Tadashi’s cock and brings it to the man’s hair, pulling him up and using those strains of hair to steady his pace. He’s so close to climaxing already, just spilling into that thin piece of latex and collapsing onto Tadashi’s back—but, he keeps going. He wants Tadashi to come before he does.

“Robert—fuck, _fuck_.”

Tadashi almost asks for Robert to calm down, but it feels incredible to be used like this, fucked with such aggressive that he’s losing his ability to breathe. Robert is clearly taking his anger out, his sexual frustration, and Tadashi just has to _take it_ ; he just has to be used, like a toy, like he’s just another whore to fuck. 

He knows he’ll have bruised hips. Maybe the marks will last enough for Hiro see them. Tadashi shivers at the thought and begs for more, for Robert to go faster. It’s then that Robert starts hitting Tadashi’s prostate dead-on, and the younger man comes, hard—even shaking, when Robert doesn’t let up. 

He falls forward on the table as Robert uses him to finish. He feels used, filthy and properly punished. Robert pushes in hard and deep, causing Tadashi’s spine to bend just as he feels the warmth of his lover’s climax. Robert fingers fall from his hair and clench at his arms. A slew of noises escape him—swears, groans, pants—until, finally, he’s pulling out.

“God,” Tadashi whispers. The pressure leaves him as Robert slips out, and Tadashi is so exhausted that he almost thinks he’s going to fall to the floor. “I could get used to you fucking me that hard.”

Robert hesitates with his response. He wipes his forehead of sweat, then grabs a wad of tissues to clean them both up and hide the condom in the trash.

“I—I shouldn’t have been so rough,” he apologizes, voice strained. He wants to reach out and touch Tadashi’s face, but the look of satisfaction stops him. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Tadashi gives a gentle laugh. “No,” he tells him. “Of course not. It was good. Amazing, Robert.”

It’s quiet as they dress and catch their breaths. Tadashi is the first one to really make a move. He walks up to the older man, pressing their lips together and smiling through the kiss.

“I’ve missed this,” Robert says, quietly. He kisses the man’s forehead and brushes through his hair until he looks proper again. And, he knows he shouldn’t—his mind tells him over and over again to not do it—but, the words still slip from his mouth. “What happened with Krei?”

He has to break away from the embrace, afterward. The atmosphere has officially changed, now, but he doesn’t necessarily regret the question. It had to be asked. They have to have this conversation, even if Tadashi’s expression is faltering, and he’s moving to put more distance between them.

“It didn’t go as planned,” he admits, bitterly. He takes a seat on the stool. “He’s such a fucking— _God_ , Robert, how the hell were you ever involved with him?”

Robert frowns. “He was different, back then,” he offers. “Well, I thought he was, anyway. But, even with everything that happened, I never once considered he was capable of— _that_.”

“Well, he is,” Tadashi huffs, pointedly. “He’s more than capable. He even tried to make a move on me.”

Despite himself, Robert laughs. “Did he, now?” he asks. “I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re quite the looker.”

“It’s not funny,” Tadashi defends. “He’s a predator, Robert.”

Tadashi is stunned, yet again, by the man’s complete dismissal of the larger issue. It’s mostly unintentional on Robert’s part; he’s trying to keep it amicable between them, but he knows he’s said the wrong thing when Tadashi continues to glare.

Robert sighs and restarts. “I’m glad you’re not signing over Baymax,” he says. “Krei Tech was never the right corporation for your invention. When it comes time to really sell, we can shop around for the right fit.”

 _We_.

They both feel the tension, then—and, it’s certainly not sexual. It’s uncomfortable, strained. Neither know how to proceed, which isn’t uncommon in their relationship. But, once again, Robert has insisted on making this personal, and it’s the absolute last thing Tadashi wants, right now.

“Maybe we _should_ talk,” Tadashi says, after a pause.

Robert doesn’t know why his heart sinks; it’s not like he didn’t expect this, or even _want_ it. They need to have a discussion: About their relationship, about Hiro, about everything. But, it’s the _tone_ Tadashi uses that has Robert feeling cold. He begins to wonder if this is it, for them.

“All right,” Robert breathes, steadily. “How is Hiro? Have you seen him since…?”

“He’s fine,” he says, automatically. “Except, not really. He’s functioning, but isn’t that what abuse victims do? He still has no grip on reality, thanks to your lovely ex. He doesn’t understand the deeper meaning behind sex.”

The insinuation is clear enough, but it doesn’t leave Robert feeling any better. Tadashi and Hiro continuing to sleep together only further complicates the situation. Robert has to wonder if Alistair and his son have some sort of bizarre open relationship, or if Hiro’s continuation with Tadashi is just another ploy.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Robert admits. “It’s why I called so many times. I thought, perhaps, Krei and Hiro might have started making threats.”

“Oh, come on,” Tadashi groans, defensive. “It’s nothing like that. We’re fucking because we _want_ to, and I don’t give a shit about what his father thinks about it.”

Robert has to turn away, now. This is what scares him the most, because Tadashi almost sounds delusional about the whole affair. The idea of sex between them still immensely bothers Robert, but there’s also a sense of pride, knowing Tadashi still wants him, too. Tadashi wouldn’t have been begging to be fucked if he were wholly satisfied with Hiro. 

And, yet, despite Robert’s many requests for Tadashi to stay away from Hiro, the younger man has ignored him. It’s all too telling about the power Hiro holds over him.

“I _am_ concerned,” he presses. “How could I not be? Hiro hasn’t been truthful with you since you’ve met him. He didn’t tell you he was Alistair Krei’s stepson, and it’s clear he was never upfront about why he was spending so much time, with you. I don’t trust him.”

“Did it ever occur, to you, that I can make my own decisions?” Tadashi snaps. “I know what’s going on, and Hiro isn’t leading me anywhere. We’re fucking. We’re fooling around. It’s not even— _serious_.”

Each time he says it, he can see Robert’s eyes grow darker. _Good_. He hopes Robert is thinking about how hard he’s fucked Hiro, how much Hiro has _begged_. When the hell did Robert even start to think he had a right to talk about Hiro, anyway? He doesn’t give a shit about Hiro’s well-being; he only thinks of him as some whore, all because he’s blinded by the boy’s relation to Alistair Krei.

“You can’t pin your feelings about his father on him,” he finishes, standing from the stool and glaring at Robert.

“Tadashi,” the older man then says, his voice calm but exceedingly stern; “I need you to just _listen_ , to me, for a moment. That child is having an incestuous relationship with his own father and doesn’t seem to even _care_. He’s manipulative. Dangerous.”

“He’s a _kid_!”

Robert throws up his hands in defense. “Those claims of his about sleeping with married men are likely very factual,” he fires back. “Christ. Who knows how many other men he’s carrying on with? Tell me you’re at least being safe.”

Something registers on Tadashi’s expression. It’s not panicked, or frightened—just guilty, and it disappears as quickly as it washes over him, but Robert’s throat goes dry, and he closes his eyes, exasperated.

“Tadashi,” he repeats, taking a step closer. He watches the younger man avert his gaze. “You’re being safe with him, right?”

Tadashi bites his lip, and he knows he’s already given it away because of his hesitation. They should have used protection. Tadashi knows that, and he feels rightfully stupid for not doing so; but, they’re not living in the AIDS crisis. It’s not the same anymore. As much as Tadashi loathes Krei’s very being, he doubts the man is sadistic enough to infect Hiro with something and not say anything. Hiro is clean, and Tadashi is, too. Robert’s concern isn’t even based on paranoia, at this point; it’s _jealousy_.

“You can stop talking about him like he’s some useless street whore,” Tadashi seethes. “If you want me to get tested, or something, _fine_ , but it’s not like you’re ever going to fuck me without a condom.”

“Jesus Christ,” Robert exhales, cringing at the comment. “Tadashi, you’re being used. I warned you stay away from him, and you haven’t listened. Lord knows you’re not going to listen, now.”

None of this would’ve happened, Robert thinks, if Tadashi had just pushed Hiro away, if he hadn’t let the boy’s advances get under his skin. What does Tadashi think is going to happen, now? Does he think he can stop Hiro from sleeping with his father? Rescue him from it all? Has it even occurred, to Tadashi, that the boy doesn’t want any of that?

“You’re right, Robert,” Tadashi says. “I’m not going to listen. I’m an adult, and I can make my own decisions. You need to get over yourself. Fuck, you probably need to get over Alistair Krei, too.”

“Tadashi—”

But, the younger man is moving, shouting his dismissal—“Fuck _off_ ,” he sneers—and, even before exiting the lab, he’s grabbing at his phone. Probably texting Hiro, complaining about how old fashioned Robert is, how he’s just an old man whose beliefs are outdated and silly. It makes Robert sick to even think about. Safe sex is important, no matter who your partner is, what their history has been. Eliminating condoms is a discussion partners have after two, three years of solid commitment.

If Hiro wasn’t safe with Tadashi, there’s no way he’s been safe with any of his partners. It’s clear Alistair isn’t concerned, so what if Hiro has something serious, life-threatening?

Hiro is single-handedly ruining Tadashi’s life. Tadashi has become unfocused and aggressive. When was the last time Tadashi even activated Baymax? The robot, still sealed in its red portable case, has probably been the last thing on Tadashi’s mind. A month ago, it was all Tadashi cared about, talked about.

Robert refuses to watch Tadashi’s future be massacred by some precocious little tramp. Something has to give, he realizes. It’s asinine to think that, twenty years later, Alistair Krei is still haunting him—and, to top it all off, affecting the _one_ person with whom Robert has grown to care so deeply.

It’s a little after five when Robert Callaghan finds himself outside of Krei Tech. He waits, glancing at his watch every so often, until he sees a black car drive up in front of the building. Only minutes later does Alistair step out from the building, preoccupied by his phone. 

“Alistair,” he calls out.

* * *

It’s the end of the work day, and Alistair’s head is still spinning. His body feels taut. Even as he glances at the clock, noting that it’s just ten to five, he feels as though his day is only just beginning. It probably has something to do with the fact that he knows he has to go home and see Hiro.

Unless, of course, Hiro has decided to spend his day elsewhere.

Alistair doesn’t know what will hurt more: Coming home and seeing that definitive expectation of seduction and sex on Hiro’s beautiful face, or coming home and finding the penthouse empty, knowing his son is with Hamada.

He places his head in his hands and sighs. The idea of a normal relationship with Hiro scares him almost as much as a sexual one does. He knows he can’t keep sleeping with his son. And, yet, Hiro being his son—Alistair being a normal, everyday parent—is much too overwhelming. He thinks, in a twisted way, how much easier this all would be had he actually married Maemi simply to get to Hiro. At least, then, he would’ve had some sort of plan like every other fucked up pedophile. Instead, all he feels is confused, anxious. This was never how it was supposed to play out. Not even in his wildest dreams did he ever imagine that, when he agreed to marry Maemi Takachiho, was he also agreeing to, one day, take part in her murder.

Her death seems like some sort of fever dream. Alistair hardly remembers coordinating it. All he remembers is the sex; Hiro riding his cock and whispered promises of a romance that Alistair convinced himself couldn’t possibly be doomed.

He was a fool.

Alistair gathers his briefcase and stands. Even if Hiro isn’t home, they’ll have to face each other, eventually. Alistair also knows this is going to become a cycle, now. Each day, he’ll have to confront his sexual urges and push them down. Hiro won’t make it simple. Frankly, Alistair will be quite proud of himself if he makes it through the night having only condoned a blowjob.

None of this is normal. None of this can ever be normal. The only way to fix this, truly, is to send Hiro to an orphanage and never speak to him again. He doesn’t have the heart to do that. He knows Hiro’s fate, if left alone, will only lead to working the streets. How could he possibly allow that to happen?

As much as he hates himself for it, he loves Hiro. Adores him and despises him. His complicated feelings twist and churn in his mind, so much so that he barely registers leaving his office and riding the elevator downstairs.

Honey Lemon is packing up for the evening. Gogo is by her side, and the two women share hushed laughter that Alistair pretends not to notice as he stares down at his phone, feigning distraction. He offers the two a good night with a brief, formal nod, and Honey waves with a smile.

Outside, the driver is waiting. Alistair doesn’t have to speak any instructions. He wants to go straight home. Lost between the fear he possesses, there remains a routine anticipation to see his son. He ponders the ways he can entertain Hiro enough to avoid a fight. Offer him a fancy dinner. Perhaps, a few glasses of wine, or—

—and, then, he hears it.

That voice. The familiar call of his name that has Alistair glancing up and freezing.

Alistair’s world starts to spin.

Is this real? Is he having a fucking hallucination? When was the last time he and Robert Callaghan were even within twenty feet of each other? Over a decade, at least, if they’re only counting voluntary interactions.

“Robert,” he greets, stuttering over the simple name before he places his phone back into his suit pocket. “I—I wasn’t expecting—I didn’t think—?”

His driver, who is holding the door open, gives him a look that seems to question if he needs to call for security. It’s odd for Alistair Krei to stop outside his building for a casual conversation. But, Alistair holds up at hand and shakes his head. His driver nods and moves back around to wait inside the vehicle.

Alistair clears his throat and, subconsciously, glances around for any bystanders.

“What brings you here?” he asks, calmly.

His mind runs through possible connections and, like a slot machine, he hears bells go off as he lines everything up. Hiro fucks Tadashi, Tadashi fucks Robert, Tadashi tells him everything. Meaning, Robert probably knows all the sordid details about Alistair’s relationship with Hiro.

It doesn’t stop the spinning.

“I’d rather not have this conversation on the sidewalk,” Robert admits. His voice, so known and smooth, reverberates in Alistair’s mind, and his heart starts to pound. “May we—go somewhere?”

Alistair glances at the car, then raises his wrist to check the time. _5:08._ For close to a year, getting off of work on time has been one of those small but impactful joys. He thinks about Hiro, waiting at the penthouse, feeling lonely and so very _needy_. He thinks about the pouty expression his son will wear, when Alistair walks through the front door. He’ll either leap into his arms, or stay situated on the couch, as though he is too exhausted by his day to even move.

But, then, Alistair remembers that is no longer their relationship. And, with equal pain, he reminds himself, yet again, that Hiro probably isn’t home. _Of course he’s not_.

Alistair inhales. “Fine,” he agrees. He reigns Robert inside Krei Tech with a gesture of his arm. “Follow me.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in Robert’s expression, but he obliges and walks with Alistair back into the building. Inside the lobby, the receptionist perks up and opens her mouth to speak a greeting—or, perhaps, to inform the visitor that Krei Tech is closing, for the day—but, she stops and clamps her brightly-painted lips shut. Beside her, leaning against the counter, is Gogo Tomago and, together, they glance between their boss and Robert Callaghan.

On campus, Gogo has been nothing but professional with Robert. Even apologetic, when it comes to Hiro’s very presence. It’s almost odd to see her behaving so relaxed, because, for the split second before both women had moved, Gogo was most definitely smiling, jovially, at the receptionist. They were probably making plans to go out for drinks and, based on the two women’s body language, it’s more than just friendly.

Leave it to Alistair Krei, Robert thinks, to pretend he doesn’t care about being inclusive of his fellow gay man, yet fill his corporation with trustworthy associates. Robert grew used to this kind of behavior from the younger man, ages ago.

Past the lobby, the elevators, Alistair leads Robert down a long hallway. He stops at a large set of doors and enters an access code. The meeting room is silent and stiff. Alistair breathes in stagnant air that smells of printed papers and leather chairs. Evening sunlight drifts in through the tall back windows, and it casts a beam across Robert’s body. Even as an older man, he’s striking. Alistair swallows. 

“I’m assuming your little twink has put you up to this,” Alistair starts.

It barely fazes Robert, right now, that Alistair knows about his relationship with Tadashi. He crosses his arms and immediately replies: “Tadashi would be furious, if he knew I were here.” He then shakes his head, trying not to let the entirety of his emotions show in the first five minutes of being in Alistair Krei’s presence again. “Not that it particularly matters what he thinks about me, right now.”

Alistair raises a brow, at that. He’s silent as he places his briefcase down on the conference table. Afterward, he wanders over to one of the cabinets, unlocking it and revealing several bottles of alcohol. He’s pouring two glasses of scotch without even asking Robert if he wants any.

Robert accepts the drink. He’s only now realizing how badly he needs it. They raise their glasses, making the briefest of eye contact, before they both down the liquid. Immediately, Alistair offers a refill.

“I want your son to leave Tadashi alone,” Robert then states, taking a seat at the table and glancing up at Alistair. “It’s clear your lack of parental skills has given Hiro the impression he can do whatever he sees fit. Or, _well_ —maybe that is how you intend to raise him. You’ve done the same thing most of your life, Alistair.”

Alistair smirks into his glass and looks down, thumbing around the rim. How embarrassing, for Tadashi, to have his professor come and defend him. Then again, perhaps Robert is feeling the same threats that Alistair is experiencing. He’s sure Robert never expected his little boyfriend to grow so attached, either. Alistair is not about to lay out his heartache to Robert, however. He also can’t be certain what Robert knows, so he has to approach this conversation with care. He might as well bait him, while he’s at it.

“My son is none of your concern,” he replies, taking a seat across from Robert. “I’ll decide on the proper parenting techniques, for him. I’m not about to shame my gay child for wanting sex, Robert. We can’t all be stuck-up traditionalists.”

“Your son can have all the sex he wants—with boys his age,” Robert defends, quickly. “And, with condoms.”

Alistair reacts to the last part. His fingers squeeze the glass a little tighter, and his brow creases just a bit. “You don’t know anything about Hiro, or this situation,” he says. “It’s better you leave it alone.”

Robert has to take another shot of the whiskey before he has the courage to speak again. This doesn’t feel real, right now. It’s been two decades since he and Alistair were alone in a room, together. The intimacy of it is stripped. It’s all tension and anger. The atmosphere feels wickedly ill. But, even as he manages the strength to continue looking at Alistair, he’s unable to truly piece together any of the perversion he’s learned about the man. Maybe because it hurts too much. Maybe because, on some level, he still doesn’t want to believe it.

“Weeks ago,” Robert says, “I was desperate to figure out how you were not, at all, concerned about Hiro’s promiscuity. Then, the more time he spent with Tadashi, and the more Tadashi told me, it became clear why you weren’t.”

That photo of Hiro and his stepfather at the museum still flashes through Robert’s mind, along with a hundred others that he’s conjured up by himself. He wonders if the nausea is visible on his face. Alistair, who is sipping at his drink, languidly, doesn’t give any indication of his own thoughts.

“What’s that old saying?” Alistair asks with a smirk. “Age is merely a number? _Hm_. I guess you cared a little less when you were thirty-something, fucking a twenty-four year-old. You know there’s nothing like a tight ass. You certainly haven’t been able to stay away from one.”

Alistair knows he can’t make his affair with his son seem less conspicuous, so he might as well continue baiting his old flame. And, right now, it’s satisfying in its own right. He’s experiencing a sense of power he’s never once held with Hiro.

Standing, Alistair walks to the opposite side of the table and hovers over Robert. The man looks shocked, frozen, not understanding why Alistair would get so close. It’s not like they have loyalties. Alistair goes so far as to drag a hand down the man’s shoulder. He only realizes, a second later, that they haven’t touched in two decades. It feels like he’s been burned, but he keeps his hand positioned. 

“I always loved when you tried to act morally superior, to me,” Alistair teases. “Tell me, does Tadashi like that, too?”

Robert’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t do this, right now. Alistair was— _is_ —the master of manipulation. He knows exactly how to make any situation benefit him. He’s trying to distract Robert, make him stop asking questions before it goes too far.

Well, it’s a little late for that.

“Christ,” he whispers, dropping his glass back to the surface of the table. “You’re not even going to try and deny it. Like—like you’re _proud_ of it. Proud of fucking your own son.”

Alistair smiles through his next sip of whiskey. Robert laughs in disbelief.

“Does none of this scare you, Alistair? This could ruin you.”

There’s genuine concern in that statement. Somewhere; somewhere in the remnants of emotions he once held so dear for the man in front of him. Alistair Krei had been so terrified of being outed, even before he was the billionaire he is, today. This is a far greater scandal than being a gay man. He’s sleeping with an underage boy. His stepson. And, yet, he’s standing here, acting unnerved by the prospect. And, it’s almost rewarding, for Alistair, to hear how little he’s giving away. Robert doesn’t detect any sort of resentment or negative emotion; he thinks Alistair is completely fearless. That couldn’t be further from the truth, but he’ll take it. 

“You’d be surprised,” he says. “As if anyone would believe Hiro over me.”

It’s cruel. He’d never say that to Hiro’s face, but he’ll say it to get Robert off his back. After the turmoil of yesterday, he needs to feel invincible. It’s not as though Robert would ever rat him out. He’s kept his mouth shut to the press for all these years, despite knowing he could sell his sordid affair with Alistair to any tabloid in the city. 

“Tell me, Robert,” he continues softly, leaning in again and loving the way Robert’s eyes flick down and up again. It’s still so easy to seduce this fag. “Wouldn’t your career be ruined if someone found out about your little illicit affair? I’ve got more power, more ability to deny. You don’t.”

Robert doesn’t want to be shaking when he finally looks up to meet Alistair’s eyes. It’s not a cruel gaze, though; it’s challenging. He wants Robert to break. Hell, maybe he wants Robert to try and make a move, just so Alistair can humiliate him. He played that game more than once, when things got sour between the two. Robert wonders, briefly, just how often Alistair and Hiro fight for power in their relationship. It’s almost frightening to think about what the two are capable of doing, together.

When Robert’s eyes narrow with spite, Alistair unleashes another laugh and whispers: “Oh, I’ve missed that look from you.”

The younger man takes the glass away from Robert and moves completely into his space. It hasn’t been this way in so long, and he forgot how electric the air could get between them. Like contained lightning. He revels in it, soaking in the reminiscent memory of sex.

“I always loved when you got angry,” he continues. “You know, you fucked so much harder when you were pissed.”

But, there’s no temptation, for Robert. Yes, Alistair is still handsome and gorgeous. Yes, he still smells the same, too. And, _yes_ , there are a thousand memories between the two—so many good, amazing—but, even if the end hadn’t already destroyed what made their relationship special, knowing what Alistair is capable of, now, has Robert standing and moving away.

“I want your son to leave Tadashi alone,” Robert reiterates. “Surely, you want Tadashi out of the picture, too. He’s never going to sign Baymax over, to you, so what use do you have? I know you well enough to know this isn’t about torturing me.”

Alistair scoffs and finishes his drink.

“They’re not being safe,” Robert tells him again. “Then again, Hiro must’ve learned that from someone. Jesus. Alistair, what happened, to you?”

Alistair honestly loves the way Robert’s voice dips into a command. He remembers the way Robert used to demand sexual acts from him, and Alistair was always eager to perform them all. He still, to this day, has never been fucked by a thicker cock. It turns his stomach molten, and it’s a well-appreciated distraction from the images of Tadashi and Hiro that dare to paint themselves in Alistair’s mind.

He hates knowing that Tadashi and Hiro are barebacking, but Hiro is clean, and it’s obvious Tadashi’s only other sexual partner has been Robert. Alistair, of course, wants Tadashi dead for touching Hiro; but, realistically, the risks are miniscule.

“You still haven’t ever fucked raw, Robert?” he asks, lowly. “It’s fantastic, seeing your come drip down someone’s thighs. Marking your territory. I used to want that so badly, from you.”

Robert blanches and, for a long moment, cannot find a response to Alistair’s words.

No, he’s never fucked without a condom before. Absolutely not. Robert refuses to be one of those gay men. No one is immune. He saw his friends get sick and pass away. He saw the stigma, the fear, the inability to understand. No matter what age they live in, Robert will never forget that there’s always that _risk_.

“I’m not interested in getting screwed by a pedophile,” he hisses out.

There’s a distant ache, a self-inflicted disappointment that he finds himself battling. He pushes it down—deep—and starts to move toward the door. He doesn’t look at Alistair as he goes. There’s no need. He knows the smugness is written all across his features.

This almost feels like a repeat of their final argument, twenty years ago; except, now, it’s Robert walking out. And, instead of that small, modest apartment they shared, it’s the multibillion dollar headquarters that Alistair built from his betrayal and theft.

Regardless, Robert thinks his heart might be experiencing that same harrowing eruption.

“Thanks for the drink,” he says, and he slams the doors behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Alistair arrives home and finds the penthouse dark, quiet. The exhausted part of him is relieved. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with Hiro, right now. Not after Robert. He can pretend, just for now, that he doesn’t care that Hiro is probably off with Hamada, sucking his dick and begging to be fucked. It’s not as though it should matter, anyway. But, as he advances up the stairs and heads toward his bedroom, he sees the light on, and he freezes.

He should just turn around. He should go back downstairs, pretend he’s barely fazed by this, because any normal father wouldn’t think in such an obsessive, drastic fashion. But, he already senses a game being played, and Alistair clenches his fist and starts to walk again. 

Hiro is on his bed, lying on his stomach with his laptop open and scrolling through some website. The boy glances up, then retreats his attention back to the computer.

Alistair could keep his cool with Robert, sure. He could defend Hiro from fucking other men because it would get under Robert’s skin. But, he can’t stop himself from feeling humiliated, cheated on and worthless when Hiro dares to act this nonchalant.

“What are you doing?” Alistair demands. He marches over and stands above his son, who doesn’t look up, but raises one eyebrow to show he’s listening. “Get out of my room, Hiro.”

Hiro doesn’t respond. Alistair slams the laptop shut and grabs at Hiro’s wrist, pulling him up.

“I said get out.”

“Drunk already?” Hiro says, catching a whiff of Alistair’s breath as he stumbles to his feet and pulls himself out of the grip. “Geez. You drink at the office, now, too?”

At this point, a drunken stupor wouldn’t lessen this misery. He stares back at Hiro, who appears fully prepared for a fight, and Alistair seethes.

“I’ve had _a_ drink,” he tells him. “One well-deserved, might I add. I had a visitor, Hiro.”

Hiro looks intrigued, now. There’s no arrogance present, and Alistair realize, quickly, that there hasn’t been, even in his refusal to respond. Hiro is merely disgruntled, frustrated by his continual loss at this game. Has Hiro even been in touch with Hamada? Does Hiro think it’s possible that it was Tadashi who paid him a visit?

“Robert Callaghan,” he continues. A flicker of fear and apprehension shows in Hiro’s eyes, and Alistair scoffs. “You know, he’s not looking too bad at his age.”

Hiro has to ignore the way his heart starts to pound faster. He absolutely, positively does not want to think about that faggot paying his father a visit. Hiro knows the two have been forced in the same perimeters for social events, but an actual one on one conversation? How many years has it been since they truly last spoke?

“What did he have to say?” Hiro asks, sounding calm. “I’m sure Tadashi has blabbed about our little secret. Probably won’t be too long before he blackmails your ass to keep his silence.”

It’d be perfect irony, after everything Alistair did. Hiro never wants to be on the same side as Callaghan, but he’s pretty sure he’d get a wild laugh out of Alistair being blackmailed by his bitter ex-boyfriend. It’d be _hilarious_ , Hiro thinks, but Alistair narrows his eyes.

“And, you’d know all about blackmail, wouldn’t you?” he whispers, lowly.

Hiro learned from the master manipulator. He’s learned more, now, by just existing in the same space as Alistair, whose ethics have been murky from the start. Hiro has lost his moral development. Alistair is certain of that. His perception of right and wrong has been broken and knotted back together in the most chaotic manner. For all the neglect Maemi inflicted upon Hiro, would she be proud of her son’s cruelty?

“Robert thinks you’re destroying Hamada’s life,” Alistair then tells him. “He wants you to stay away from him. _Spare_ him all the misery.”

Hiro makes a raspberry noise and shakes his head. “Oh, come on,” he dismisses. “He’s just jealous. Why, I think you two have that in common.”

“Believe me, I revel in the notion of Hamada suffering,” Alistair says; “but, that’s not what you’re doing with him, and we both know it. You _like_ him, Hiro.”

“Maybe,” he considers with a sly smile. “He’s fun, Daddy. And, he’s got a nice cock. He’s certainly been more entertaining than you.”

All bait, Hiro thinks, rationally. He accompanies the statement with a challenging look that brings him closer to his father, and he presses his hand to the man’s chest. Alistair inhales beneath the touch. His body is remarkably stiff, right now.

“I thought about you all day, you know,” he tells him. “Didn’t you think about _me_?”

“Stop,” Alistair quietly commands; but, they both know the answer. _Of course_ Alistair thought about Hiro all day. He’s all Alistair _could_ think about. “I’m not—I’m not _doing_ this, tonight. I can’t.”

He’s too exhausted. Emotionally, physically. He tells Hiro, once more, to leave his room, but the boy doesn’t move. He giving one of those thoughtful hums, batting his eyes and pushing himself closer to his father.

“I was lonely, last night,” Hiro complains. “I could barely sleep. And, I told you the air isn’t working, so it was so _hot_ in there, Daddy.”

_Stop._

Alistair repeats it in his head, over and over, but nothing changes. Not Hiro’s expression. Not the pull Alistair feels toward the boy. Not anything except, maybe, his already fractured willpower.

Once more, Alistair grabs at Hiro’s wrist; but, this time, he shoves the boy to the bed. Hiro tumbles against the mattress with the smallest noise before Alistair feels a huff of laughter in his face. He can’t help but slam their lips together just to silence that arrogance.

There’s no winning this game, this battle. Even Hiro can recognize some sense of that as Alistair forces his legs apart. He’s crawling over him, trying to shame him, but it feels different. Very, very different. Alistair isn’t even _hard_. Hiro’s breath catches, and he shifts his hips against the bed, trying to slide himself against his father to feel any kind of heat.

There’s nothing.

“You’re so fuckin’ _shameless_ ,” Alistair hisses. “You can’t get go one day without a cock up your ass.”

“Mm, and you can’t resist me…” Hiro purrs out. His small, curious hand starts to pull at his father’s tie. He twists the satin fabric between his fingers, then pulls at it to guide Alistair’s mouth back down. They kiss, and Hiro hears, feels his father moan. “Come on, Daddy… I know you can’t.”

“You don’t know anything.”

A weak defense. Mindless. But, Alistair is still unbuckling his belt and pulling at his suit pants.

“I know that Robert Callaghan wouldn’t be interested in you, after all these years,” he taunts. “I know women only want you for your money… And, I know you’re too afraid to let people know how much you love cock. I’m all you have, remember? It’s just you and me.”

“ _Shut_ up,” Alistair growls. He tears at Hiro’s shirt, then his shorts. “Do you think _Hamada_ really wants you? What a joke.” 

He laughs, lowly, but it doesn’t even faze Hiro, who is spreading his legs and moaning. It takes so little effort for him to adjust his lithe little body. Alistair pins both his wrists down as he stretches to reach for the lube. Hiro’s hips rise, and he’s already _dripping_ , his hard cock grinding against his father’s side.

“This is the only reason he wants you,” Alistair tells Hiro. “He knows you’re an easy fuck. A _whore_. But, he’ll get bored. Robert is a thousand times more sophisticated. At the very least, he’s not sociopathic.”

There’s an exhale, and Hiro turns his head to the side, smiling, privately, as Alistair’s fingers start to coast between his legs, explorative and slick.

“Since when do men like sophistication?” Hiro ponders. “You certainly weren’t concerned about it when you took my whore of a mother home and banged her the first night you met.”

The remark earns him one, two fingers. Alistair spits at his hand, offering the barest preparation before he’s shoving them inside his son. Hiro clenches and squirms, but his face lights up with greed, and he flashes his teeth in a grin. 

“You don’t even realize it, do you?” the man sneers. “How much you’re just like her?”

Hiro’s momentary indignation at that statement allows Alistair to rip his fingers from Hiro and coat his own cock with lube. God, he needs to let this out. Alistair thinks of Robert and the lingering electricity that sparked between them, and he feels anxious, desperate. He just needs _something_. Anything. But, most importantly, he needs Hiro.

“Can you show your daddy how good you are, baby?” Alistair whispers, and it’s then that Hiro feels his arousal fully ignite. He moans when Alistair lines up his cock. He reaches out and slides a hand under Alistair’s shirt, urging him closer. “Come on, baby… Show me.”

“You know I’m the best, Daddy,” Hiro gasps. “You always love fucking your baby boy… You wouldn’t want to give that up, would you?”

He gives a breathy moan as Alistair’s cock continues to tease his hole. Even after being prepared, the girth of his father has him stretching wider, and Alistair curses at how that tight skin constricts around him.

_So goddamn tight._

“I love Daddy’s cock the most,” he breathes. “Love when Daddy comes _inside_ me.”

Alistair shoves his cock inside his son and, mindlessly, thrusts forward, again and again. He doesn’t give thought to pace, or timing. He stops responding to the boy’s raspy words. He just fucks Hiro, lost in the haze of everything that so terribly feels _right_ in this moment. 

The pleasure is there. The familiarity of Hiro’s body, and the intimacy that underlies the mania. If Alistair closes his eyes long and tight enough, maybe, he can pretend this is all normal. _Sane_. And, he’s used to that, because he did it each and every time he tried to convince himself he could be attracted to women. It had been simple enough, until Maemi, who was vocal and demanding in bed. Alistair couldn’t always dissociate his peril.

It feels similar, now, with Hiro. Beneath him, the boy begs and pleads, calling out names, saying _all the right_ words. Alistair thinks about how Maemi would wrap her arms around his shoulders and lift herself up, pressing into him and moaning. Her reach was as rapturous as her moans. Her long, lacquer-painted nails would dig into his skin, and she’d lose herself in the feeling of another human. Alistair knew she felt most powerful in bed. He knew she felt the best about herself, too.

Just like Hiro.

Alistair grips Hiro’s skinny ankles and pushes them up, giving himself better access. His hand wraps around the entirety of one joint with ease. His heart jumps as he acknowledges the fragility of the boy beneath him, and he’s not quelled by the words Hiro speaks—“You’re so _good_ , Daddy,” he pants—but, he ignores the tribulations. 

Hiro cries out, loving how thick and hard his father feels, slamming into him. Alistair’s hands are all over him, feeling him, caressing him as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of his son.

“Please,” he begs. He reaches to stroke at his cock, but Alistair grabs his wrist, pins it back and continues to fuck into him. “Yes… _God_. Daddy, please.”

It’s not the kind of begging Alistair wants to hear. He wants Hiro to be begging for forgiveness. Begging for his father’s love. He’s never going to get that.

“Hiro…”

The boy starts to laugh; and, _oh_ , how Alistair has grown to despise the sound of his laughter. It’s so much like his own, Alistair realizes. A cruel indicator of deceit that is destined to haunt him the same way it has Robert. For as many times as Hiro has laughed in Alistair’s face, Alistair thinks he may have laughed in Robert’s by tenfold.

This isn’t the same anymore. He doesn’t think Hiro even knows what he wants from his father, even as he pushes his mouth against Alistair’s and kisses him. In those fleeting seconds before their climax, Alistair’s doubts and fears dissolve. He only hears Hiro’s breathless pleas for release. Only focuses on his son’s body, his tight, little body, all arching and taut and ready to come. Hiro’s goes straight, then curved, then erratically switching between like a writhing snake in the sun.

He groans. His face pushes into Hiro’s shoulder, and his hips push faster, punishing Hiro and praising him, all at once. Then, he comes, filling up his son and chasing the thought of much he loves, loves, loves Hiro.

Then, it’s over.

Hiro exhales. It’s wet between them, sticky. Hiro reaches up to pull Alistair closer when, suddenly, his father starts to pull away.

He says something. It’s hushed, frantic—“Don’t,” he says—and, he’s so intent on not even looking at his son that he moves to the edge of the bed and collects his face in his hands.

Alistair hates himself. He hates his urges, he hates his lack of morality, and he hates his poor conscience. 

He’s fucking his son. He’s fucking a child. And, he’s been trying to pretend that it’s okay, and normal, and _just_ a secret. 

“We have to stop,” he whispers. “I can’t keep doing this, to you.”

Even now, all Alistair wants to do is wrap his arms around Hiro and pretend nothing else exists. If they just stayed here, alone in the penthouse, everything could be fine. No one would get in their way, no one else would find out. _Just the two of them_.

“I’m—sorry, Hiro.”

Hiro’s eyes are shut, and he’s frozen in place, panting. He knows it’s different. It _felt_ different. But, not feeling Alistair against him, now, sprawled out in afterglow, is so much worse. Hiro drags his hand up his own chest and concentrates on his heartbeat. 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, Hiro thinks, and he wonders how similar Alistair’s disgust is, now, to after his nights with Maemi. Maybe not for the same reasons. In fact, probably for the exact opposite reasons.

Quietly, Hiro exhales. He feels misplaced on Alistair’s bed, and he suddenly recalls all those days and nights when the room still smelled so much like his mother. Her very presence still existed within these four walls, even after the clothes, the makeup, the jewelry were all thrown out.

If Hiro concentrates long enough, he thinks he can smell her expensive perfume, even now.

“Don’t apologize,” Hiro eventually says. He sits up and reaches for his clothes. “Christ, Dad. Have some self-respect.” 

Even if Alistair wanted to say something, he doesn’t have a response to give. He keeps his head cradled in his hands and feels a surge of relief when Hiro doesn’t touch him before leaving the room.

* * *

Tadashi is studying for his mathematics final when his phone goes off—twice.

It’s painfully silent in the library. When the high volume of his messaging tone echoes in the large space, Tadashi grabs at his phone and sinks into his shoulders, praying that he’ll be spared the glares from his peers surrounding him.

He stops caring when the reads the messages.

> everything fuckin sucks  
>  Sent at 11:21 a.m.

> can we do something or whatever?? please   
>  Sent at 11:22 a.m.

Tadashi is actually surprised that Hiro sounds so desperate in his messages. He’s never this insistent. In fact, most of the time, he acts indifferent. The last time they spoke in person, Hiro stormed out, and Tadashi was under the impression they were fighting. Clearly, that’s not the case. 

What’s more likely is that Hiro is fighting with his father; this shouldn’t illicit such a positive reaction as it does. Alistair Krei deserves it. Alistair Krei deserves to have his name smeared and tarnished. For the past several nights, fantasies of selling the truth to the press have lulled Tadashi to sleep. 

But, Tadashi knows it’s never going to happen. He doesn’t have the heart of disrupt Hiro’s life like that, even if the poor kid would be a million times better off emancipated and in some sort of extensive therapy program. Hiro would hate him. He’d probably become some sort of recluse, never heard from again.

Robert sure as hell would love that.

 _Christ_. It’s preposterous how jealous Robert behaves, sometimes. It seems even worse, now that Tadashi knows the truth about Robert’s past. For both Hiro and Robert, Krei is a source of misery and frustration. Tadashi can’t imagine being so connected to someone who has repeatedly hurt you. Sure, he cares about Robert, and he cares a lot about Hiro. But, he doesn’t think he’d have trouble walking away, were they to absolutely ruin his life.

Then again, it’s easy to say that, rather than act on it.

Tadashi stares at his phone for several more seconds, as though he can discover some kind of cryptic message in Hiro’s words. Eventually, Tadashi places down his pencil and responds.

> yeah. i’ll be at the library for a while. you can come hangout.   
>  Sent at 11:25 a.m.

Hiro probably needs to get out of the house, anyway. His father may be at work, but Tadashi imagines their place must be riddled with a such strange aura that serves as a constant reminder of their relationship. Maybe he feels trapped.

It’s so goddamn infuriating. Alistair Krei is a nutcase, who thinks it’s perfectly fine to fuck his son. Robert Callaghan is a possessive dick, who has no regard for a victim of sexual trauma. And, Hiro is just this poor _kid_ , who is never going to get the help he needs unless someone fucking _pushes_ for it.

Krei and Robert should fuck off together, if they feel the need to control everyone around them. Hell, Hiro’s better off without his dad in his life—that’s for fucking certain—and, admittedly, Tadashi can feel his attraction, to Robert, slipping away.

But, maybe, he just wants Hiro for himself.

It only takes Hiro thirty minutes to arrive on campus. He notifies Tadashi he’s picking up some access I.D. from the admissions office, which the man guesses is necessary now that Gogo is no longer chaperoning him. When he appears in the library, Tadashi watches as Hiro scans the perimeters to locate him. He looks like a lost puppy, and it’s enough to garner a chuckle from the man.

Eventually, he lifts his arm and waves down Hiro, who puts on a disgruntled expression and trots over to the table, bemused. 

“Why do you always dress like that?” he asks, plopping down onto seat across from Tadashi and gesturing toward the man’s stupid cardigan and his even stupider dress pants. “You have a nice ass—so, why not show it off?”

Tadashi laughs and closes his mathematics book. He figures this is the closest thing to a compliment he’s ever going to receive from Hiro.

“Not all of us want to thrust our asses to the world,” he teases.

There’s a rather charming smile that accompanies the statement, and Hiro scoffs, lightly. He wonders if, instead of falling to banter, he should’ve leaned over and kissed Tadashi, or something. Maybe hugged him. He never knows what to offer as a greeting, and it’s sort of embarrassing. The ease of interacting isn’t quite as natural as when he’s with his father, he realizes.

“I’m sorry things aren’t going well,” Tadashi then says, his tone shifting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Well, it sucks, first of all,” Hiro replies. “Everything sucks, Tadashi. I’m sick of being in that house. I needed to get out—and, you’re the only person I know, really, _so_.”

It sounds more depressing than he intends, but it’s true. Hiro’s never even had a friend before. He doesn’t know many people. Maybe Gogo and Honey, but they’re employees of his father, and that’s sort of weird. 

Despite some hesitation, Tadashi reaches out and grabs at Hiro’s hand. The boy nearly jerks. Hiro doesn’t normally admit he’s had bad days, although Tadashi hasn’t known him long enough to say that with complete confidence. He figures the revelation about Robert and Krei must’ve hit Hiro even harder upon hearing some sort of confirmation from his father. Tadashi feels triumphant. Maybe that twisted pedophile will finally decide to back the fuck off.

“Did you guys have a fight?” Tadashi averts his eyes as he asks, and he knows he sounds more like a jealous, bitter boyfriend than a concerned friend. He suddenly feels very much like Robert. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything, but…”

“Of course we fought,” Hiro snaps. “I was pissed off. He got pissed off, too, and we fucked, but—now, he’s acting like we’re—”

_—broken up._

The phrase feels like bile on his tongue, and he didn’t even _say_ it. Tadashi squeezes at his hand and, while there’s comfort in his touch, his warmth, Hiro wonders if he actually cares, or if he’s just waiting to gloat about it. This is what Tadashi wanted, after all.

But, he’s still here. He still chose to respond to Hiro’s messages. Maybe Tadashi is lonely, too.

“Anything new with _Robert_?” he mocks. He pulls his hand away and watches as Tadashi’s expression clouds. “I take it you’ve seen him, then.”

“He’s not exactly happy with me, either,” Tadashi admits. “I guess we’re both in the doghouse.”

Hiro curls his fingers. “He went to see my father. Did he tell you that?”

“What? No. No, of course not. He didn’t say anything about that.”

Tadashi sounds more panicked than he intends, but he almost immediately puts together the pieces. He can’t decide whether or not he’s surprised. After all of Robert’s bizarre behavior regarding Krei, Tadashi never would’ve thought the man would go out and confront him. They haven’t even spoken in ages. How did that conversation even go down? Did they throw punches? Scream? Tadashi almost wants to grab his phone and ask Robert if he’s okay.

Then again, maybe not.

“He found out we didn’t use a condom,” Tadashi explains. “He flipped out about it. Sort of. But, that must’ve been why he decided to confront your dad.”

“Are you serious?” Hiro laughs out. It’s about as sardonic as always, but Tadashi is almost relieved to see him laugh. “ _That’s_ what got his panties in a twist?”

“I mean, he has a point—I guess,” Tadashi half-defends. “It’s not exactly about being, like, old fashioned, or anything. Safe sex _is_ important.”

“It’s also boring.”

Tadashi hesitates, and his gaze drops. He knows he should be the better person, here. He knows he should supply a long and tired lecture about safe sex, but there’s too much guilt, now, to properly formulate the words. Even raised in the middle of nowhere, Tadashi still had knowledge of safe sex. Hell, most of the porn he watched rarely included barebacking. He knew and understood the risks and, when he and Robert slept together, Tadashi had assumed condoms would always be a part of sex. Hiro was the one who made him doubt it. Hiro was the one who made him try it. And, Tadashi hates himself, right now, because all he can think about was how _good_ it felt to be inside of Hiro without a condom, how much he would’ve loved if Robert spilled inside him and made him leak.

“He’s just trying to look out, for me,” Tadashi says. “For you, too. Well, I think.”

“ _That’s_ doubtful,” he replies. “I’m pretty sure he hates me as much as he hates my dad.”

At the moment, that hatred is rather relieving. Hiro would like to think that, regardless of the history both men share, they’re at total odds with each other, now. Hiro knows Alistair nearly decimated Callaghan’s career, his _life_ , and no sane person would ever want to go back to that. Besides, Alistair has become a pathetic shell of a man. Hopefully, too pathetic for Callaghan.

“He might not like you,” Tadashi admits; “but, that doesn’t mean he wants to see you get some STD, or something.”

“Your professor needs to get over himself. Alistair and I only used condoms for, like, a few weeks before I asked him to stop. No one died just because he blew his load up my ass.”

Tadashi swallows. 

“Plenty of people died,” he says, softly, and Hiro looks confused. He probably knows, but he obviously doesn’t understand. Just like everyone else on the planet. “Hold on.”

Tadashi pulls up a picture on his phone after a few searches, then shows it to Hiro. It’s of the San Fransokyo Bridge Park, covered with colorful patches of quilts. It stretches for at least several miles.

“That’s just some people who died in the AIDS crisis,” he tells Hiro. He taps his phone and zooms in on one of the quilts. “It’s the NAMES Project. Each panel represents someone. Most people know about the crisis, but they don’t know how bad it was, back then. Robert says he felt like all his friends were dying.”

Hiro takes Tadashi’s phone and zooms in further on the photo. The quilt is huge. There’s thousands of separated panels, each one colorful and carefully stitched. He doesn’t quite understand the concept until he clicks out and reads the article attached to the image. He thinks, maybe, he’s heard of this, somewhere along the way. Maybe Alistair mentioned it once, or something.

“Well, that’s depressing,” he says, handing back Tadashi’s phone. “Geez.”

Tadashi knows it’s a difficult topic to get across, because it really was only thirty odd years ago, and it still runs rampant among other parts of the world. Hiro looks like he doesn’t know quite what else to say. He’s probably thinking about his father and Callaghan, right now.

“I, um—I probably should’ve asked, I guess,” Hiro decides. “Last time, I mean. When we didn’t use a condom. I kind of just did it, so… Your professor can start with me, if he’s initiating a new campaign about safe sex, or something.”

They lock gazes again, and Hiro hopes he looks less like an uncaring jackass. Normally, he wouldn’t care, but Hiro’s beginning to realize he wants Tadashi to think of him as a little bit more than just some whore—as his father so kindly put it, last night.

“Um, so… Your finals are soon, aren’t they?” he asks, gesturing to Tadashi’s stack of books as he tries to change the subject. “Are you sticking around for the summer?”

Tadashi has never seen Hiro appear so apologetic before, so uncertain. It’s kind of humanizing, actually, the way Hiro’s eyes widen like he’s afraid he won’t be forgiven. Tadashi just smiles and reaches across the table to swipe away the stray hairs from the boy’s face.

 _God_. He’s cute. Tadashi feels his stomach do a little tumble when he looks at Hiro, now—trying so hard to make light and change the subject so they talk about something happier. The snark is gone, and it’s like he’s scraping away bold paint to reveal a softer color. 

“I don’t think I am,” he says. “I don’t have a place to stay. Even if I were on better terms with Robert, right now, he said something about visiting his daughter in New York. So, back to the farm, for me.”

There won’t be any summer flings with hot boys back in the boonies. He won’t find Mr. Right at a fucking library, like he’s daydreamed about. There aren’t any gay farmer boys like in Tadashi’s stupid romance novels that he hides under his bed. He’ll go back into the closet, aside from when he’s with his aunt, who will ask all sorts of questions about cute boys he may have met at SFIT. Tadashi knows he’ll never have the energy to explain this mess.

“I guess it’s probably too late to sign-up for summer classes,” Hiro replies. “I think if you sign-up for, like, three, then they let you keep board on the campus.”

Tadashi raises an eyebrow at the statement, and it’s inescapably clear what he’s about to say.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hiro complains. “It’s not like I want you sticking around and pissing off my dad further. I just—I can tell how much you don’t want to go home.”

“All right,” Tadashi says through a chuckle. He thinks Hiro might even look embarrassed, despite his attempt at a defiant glare. “You know, you’d fit in around here pretty well. Ever think about applying to SFIT?”

It’s not as though he’d be the first student under the age of eighteen admitted to the school. SFIT has a long history of child prodigies, and Hiro is already comfortable around campus. Tadashi knows he’d excel. Frankly, he’d love to see the kind of inventions Hiro is capable of designing and building.

“What would I study?” Hiro asks. “Robotics? I’m sure my dad would _love_ seeing all my classes with Callaghan.”

“Just a thought,” Tadashi voices, shrugging.

Hiro scoffs, then says something about wanting to go to the campus café. He asks Tadashi if he wants anything, but the man declines, and Hiro wanders back out of the library. Tadashi wonders if he’ll even see him again, today.

Alone, Tadashi finishes jotting down his notes and does a few more practice equations. Tomorrow is the math final. After that, his only remaining final is Robert’s class. He’s not particularly nervous, aside from having to face Robert again. He wishes he were more eager to finish finals; but, truthfully, the sooner he’s done with them, the sooner the school year is over. By this time, next week, he’ll be back home.

Is Robert going to stay in touch with him? Is Hiro? Or, is Hiro’s father crazy and possessive enough to forbid his son from keeping in contact with Tadashi?

Tadashi feels a knot in his stomach. He starts to gather his belongings, packing up for the afternoon, when Hiro reappears. He’s holding an iced chai.

“So, I was thinking,” Hiro starts, sipping at his beverage afterward. “If you’re not doing anything, maybe I could show you the penthouse?”

It’s unfamiliar, the wave of nerves that Hiro feels shaking within him. He chugs more of his chai. He shouldn’t be acting like a nervous little schoolgirl in front of some hardly experienced college dork like Tadashi. But, every time Hiro meets his gaze, he feels his cheeks inflame, and there’s a bizarre need to fetch all of Tadashi’s approval.

“If you’re not busy,” he then amends. “And, like, if you even wanted to, or whatever.”

At that, Tadashi raises an eyebrow. Hiro, asking someone to come home with him? Not Hiro demanding someone take him home, instead? Hiro, being vaguely respectful? Tadashi thinks he even sees a little blush on Hiro’s cheeks. Maybe he’s caught some feelings, along with all this fucking business. It wouldn’t be a surprise, or even unnatural. He’s fourteen; he _should_ be developing crushes, rather than spending his free time seducing men thirty years older than him.

Tadashi is free. The most he’d end up doing is studying back at the dorm, and he feels confident in his last two finals that he doesn’t think it’s necessary. And, he is curious…

“If you want, sure,” he agrees, a soft smile on his lips. He feels bubbly and light, and he allows the feeling to surface. Crushes are good, he reminds himself—especially when the only action he sees is from his fuck buddy professor, who has proven himself to be more trouble than he’s worth. “That’d be pretty cool.”

As they walk outside, Hiro grabs his phone and calls his driver. He’s bizarrely polite on the phone, which contradicts the smug look he gives Tadashi when he hangs up. 

“You sure your dad’s not home?” Tadashi asks. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

Hiro rolls his eyes. “Don’t be stupid,” he says. “My dad is at work.”

They meet the driver toward the front of campus. The private vehicle is parked at the curb and, when the driver emerges, he gives Hiro a very professional nod.

“How are you, today?” he asks, formally.

Hiro says something about being tired, and Tadashi averts his gaze at the driver as he climbs inside the back of the car. Either this guy is paid to stay silent, or he’s paid to inform Krei about Hiro’s every movement. The least Tadashi can do is try and prevent the guy from identifying him.

“Jesus, you really are rich,” he comments, lightly, noting how the Krei Tech logo is embroidered onto every surface. 

There’s a divider, too, between the back seat and the driver. Hiro has probably fucked his father back here at least a dozen times. Hiro doesn’t seem to notice how Tadashi frowns, then adjusts himself to sit more comfortably.

The ride is short, but Hiro talks the entire way about how, this one time, he took the train to visit his father at the office and was mobbed by a group of women who kept asking for his photo. He says they were persistent and ruthless, grabbing at him and pulling him in every direction. Hiro jokes that it was probably more attention than his mother had ever given, to him, but that the ordeal was so bizarre that he never wishes to ride public transit again.

Once they park, Hiro waits for the driver to open the door, for him, and Tadashi scoffs 

“Do they jack you off, too?” he comments, sarcastically. “Just to save you the inconvenience?”

“I think my dad would kill them,” Hiro replies, immediate.

He wonders what Tadashi actually thinks of that statement, whether it’s implying Alistair as a protective father, or a protective lover. Hiro’s not so sure, either. 

The doorman smiles when Hiro walks into the building, and it’s more than a little embarrassing when he refers to him as Mr. Takachiho-Krei. Hiro has requested, once than once, that he just call him by his first name, but maybe Tadashi’s presence has him falling back into formality.

“We’re the top floor,” Hiro explains inside the elevator. “It’s a pretty cool view. You can see the whole city—even the bridge.”

Tadashi whistles, impressed, when they get to the front door and all Hiro does is enter a key code. It’s weird, bringing someone to the penthouse. Hiro has never done this before; he’s never known anyone who he’d want to bring to his home. He wants to show off to Tadashi, sure; but, he’s far more preoccupied with the realization that he’s proud of making a— _well_ , a friend.

At least, he thinks Tadashi is his friend.

Inside, Hiro is grateful to discover the maid already came. His dishes, along with all the food left out from breakfast, are nowhere to be found. The penthouse smells as it always does, and the blinds to the balcony window are pushed open, illuminating the afternoon sun into the large living room. Hiro takes off his jacket and ushers Tadashi, who is still standing at the doorway, inside with him.

“Don’t just stand there—come in,” he says, raising an eyebrow at Tadashi’s hesitation.

But, Tadashi’s mouth is agape, and his eyes are large. He’s staring at the wide, open space with amazement, and he looks back at Hiro as though to confirm that, _yes_ , this is really it, this is where he lives.

Everything is just so beautiful. Pristine and sparkling. The design is modern and the floors are a pale hardwood. Tadashi doubts an entire semester’s tuition would pay one month’s mortgage. Of course, Alistair Krei doesn’t have a mortgage, he thinks. A billionaire like him pays for things upfront, and Tadashi knows he paid a pretty penny just to have the view over the city alone. It’s mesmerizing. The bridge looks like a scarlet string from up here, faded into the distant fog, and Tadashi can even see SFIT. The glow from the library is just beginning to show as the sun sinks lower in the sky. 

“I can’t believe you live here,” he says, quietly. He takes a step forward and stares at the expanse of sleek furniture in the living room. “I—God, I’m from some beat-up farmhouse. We don’t even have air conditioning.”

Alistair Krei has skylights and in-wall bookshelves. He has a marble fireplace in the den, and a large wine cooler in the kitchen. Tadashi could probably get lost in here, if left alone.

“Do you want anything?” Hiro voices. “Water, juice? That’s the polite thing to ask, right?”

Tadashi manages a nod, even though he’s still marveling at his surroundings. It’s sort of cute, Hiro decides; but, also, a little embarrassing. Hiro throws his bag on the couch and goes to fill a glass from the filtered water faucet.

“You like the view?” Hiro then asks, sauntering up to Tadashi, who is standing by the large windows. He hands him the glass of water. “Don’t worry, these windows have been put to good use.”

Tadashi’s laugh is somewhere between annoyed and amused. “I’m surprised some insane paparazzi hasn’t snapped a photo of you from their helicopter,” he muses.

It _would_ be ideal to fuck against those windows, Tadashi thinks. What kind of sick empowerment has Krei felt, pushing Hiro’s tiny body against the glass with the risk of all to see? Tadashi sips at his water, then looks over to Hiro, who is staring out toward the view. He looks remarkably pensive, and Tadashi realizes he’s never seen that expression on the boy. What—or, who—is he thinking about, right now?

Tadashi can’t help it; he reaches out, brushing away some of Hiro’s hair from his face and smiling at him. There’s just something _different_ about him, now. The vulnerability, Tadashi considers, of being in his own home. Whether Tadashi wants to admit it, or not, this is the home Hiro shares with his father, his lover. It’s supposed to be private and intimate, and Hiro is allowing him to step inside. When was the last time they even had a guest?

“I—can go, if you want,” Tadashi decides. His hand sweeps through the boy’s hair again, trailing down to his neck. “Don’t feel obligated to, like, entertain me.”

Hiro shoots Tadashi a look, pointed and somewhat offended. “What, does _Doctor_ Robert Callaghan have a nicer joint?” He laughs. “Prefer to be there, right now?”

Robert’s loft is definitely no contender for a billionaire’s penthouse; it’s average, remarkably modest for a man who certainly doesn’t have to worry about finances. The most impressive aspect of Robert’s place is the décor, which is chic and screams some of sort of high intelligence about art.

“Don’t say that,” Tadashi chides, gently. “I want to be here with you, knucklehead. Nowhere else, okay?”

At that, Hiro’s laughter settles, and he stares up at the older man with something that resembles gratitude, like he’s thankful Tadashi even wants to spend time with him. Tadashi’s heart constricts, and they’re silent for a moment longer as they focus on the San Fransokyo landscape.

“So, when does your dad come home?” Tadashi asks.

Hiro shrugs. “Depends,” he admits. “He’s usually home by six, but I’m guessing he’s staying late, tonight. Probably to avoid me.”

It’s said with resentment, although Tadashi suspects he’s attempting to hide the hurt he undoubtedly feels. Tadashi places his water down and brings Hiro into his arms, comfortingly.

“Well,” he begins; “I think we ought to do something, then. You know, since we have this _whole place_ to ourselves.”

Hiro raises his brows, and Tadashi moves him away from the window and toward the kitchen counter. This is the first time Tadashi has actively made a serious move on him. It’s not just some innocent hand holding in the library; they’re alone, in the privacy of the penthouse, and Tadashi is making it more than clear as his hips press into Hiro’s and his gaze goes dark, that he wants something from the boy.

“I can show you my room, if you’d like,” he offers, smirking.

It’s hardly his room, though. Hiro’s probably spent two, three nights inside this bedroom since his mother’s death. It’s very impersonal, and Tadashi will sense it as soon as they walk through the door. It looks like a guest room; not the bedroom of a teenage boy, and it’s not like it’ll be a mystery as to why.

Hiro pulls Tadashi’s hand, guiding him toward the stairs and up to the second floor. The older man remains fascinated by the décor, the countless rooms. He asks about a few art pieces, and Hiro tries his best to remember where Alistair said they came from, what they mean.

“So, how many bathrooms do you have?”

“Four,” Hiro answers, nonchalant, and Tadashi curses.

Inside his room, the bed is made, and the clothes he left spilled across the floor have been collected and hung, neatly, back inside the large closet. Hiro wonders, yet again, what the maid has been thinking this entire week. 

Tadashi kicks the door shut and pushes Hiro to the bed until he falls onto it. He can sense the misuse in the room, and it produces images in his head that he never once considered, which include Hiro pressing close to his father in a king-sized bed, nighttime whispers and embraces that have, on some occasions, been romantic.

It scares Tadashi to think about what they may say to one another before they drift off to sleep.

Tadashi leans in and kisses Hiro, powerfully. He pushes a knee between the boy’s legs and revels in the squirming Hiro does in return. 

“This okay?” he asks, timidly.

Tadashi feels a bit like a horny teenager, trying to get in a quick fuck before the parents get home. He moves his kisses toward Hiro’s neck and he’s so, so tempted to leave a mark, or two.

“Hm, don’t know…” Hiro whispers back, coy. He giggles when Tadashi gives him a particular look. “You know you can do whatever you want, ‘Dashi.”

Hiro spreads his legs to get into a better position, sliding against Tadashi and letting out a small moan when he feels their thighs touch. Tadashi’s cock is twitching beneath his pants. Their mouths move against one another, tongues exploring and lips biting. Hiro’s almost forgotten how much he enjoys making out. He loves the heated strain of clothes still being on, hands grasping at each other’s bodies and desperate panting. Usually, with Alistair, he sits in the man’s lap, squirming on top of him; it feels weird being caged down to the bed with Tadashi looming over it. Weird but, decidedly, nice.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Hiro murmurs when they pull away to breathe. “We can—use a condom, if you want. I think my da—I think I have some.”

Tadashi swallows. He tells himself that he doesn’t give a shit what Robert thinks and ignores the tiny, black pit in his stomach telling him he shouldn’t even be doing this, at all.

“We don’t need them,” he says, quickly, cutting off Hiro with another heated kiss before moving his hands down to the boy’s shorts. Christ, he’s already so hard. “I want to feel you again.”

That part is true, and it’s the thought of Hiro’s tight warmth that drives him further. He slides down Hiro’s little shorts, struggling with how tightly they cling. But, eventually, they’re off and reveal Hiro’s tiny little cock. It’s still just as cute, and Tadashi gives the boy a smirk to convey as much. 

“Would your dad say anything, if I left marks here?” he breathes against Hiro’s stomach, then his hips, all the way to his thighs. Hiro twitches, face unreadable. Tadashi tests him and gives a tiny nip against the soft skin. “Having hickeys all over your thighs is pretty telling.”

Hiro doesn’t know if Alistair will ever touch him again. He doesn’t know if his father will ever pin him down on his bed, spread his legs and admire his thighs, his legs. Hiro whimpers when Tadashi’s mouth swallows him. It’s so easy. Too easy. Just like it is with his father.

“Fuck, Tadashi…”

Hiro’s chest rises and falls, and Tadashi slides one hand up the boy’s shirt as he goes down on him. Tadashi has always loved bigger dicks when watching porn, or looking at magazines, and Robert has certainly spoiled him with a reality; but, with Hiro, he’s so cute that it doesn’t even matter, to him. Tadashi likes that he can fit him all in one go, with hardly any effort. He feels Hiro hard against his tongue and touches his lips to the very base, then hollows his cheeks. Hiro’s cock twitches, and he bucks his hips, thrusting into Tadashi’s mouth.

“‘Dashi… God. _Please_.”

Hiro throws his head back before his hands flail out, grabbing at Tadashi’s hair and pulling him deeper onto his cock. It’s not even as though this is particularly intense; it’s just the realization they’re doing this in his house, his bedroom. There’s something—intimate about it.

“Tell me what you want,” Tadashi says, pulling back and starting to unbuckle his belt. He throws it to the floor, then slides off his pants. “Come on, Hiro.”

Hiro bites at his own lip, eyes dark. “I want you to fuck me,” he tells him. He helps Tadashi with his shirt. “I want you inside me, stretching me open, ‘Dashi.”

Tadashi never expected Hiro to be this desperate without any sort of teasing. Between them, there’s always been foreplay that leads up to this moment, foreplay that is filled with sarcasm and humiliation. And, while Tadashi does love that, there’s a certain thrill that comes from giving Hiro dark eyes and seeing the boy crumble.

He already made Hiro beg their first time, and he doesn’t want to do that, now; instead, he motions for lube until Hiro scrambles to it. It’s an old bottle tucked away in the drawer, probably expired, but it’s good enough. Hiro’s tiny fingers help with the lube, massaging at Tadashi’s cock and giving one, two squeezes. Tadashi groans.

“Hurry,” Hiro breathes.

Tadashi starts to rub his cock against Hiro’s hole, and he’s surprised, once again, by just how small it is, how _tight_. It’s so easy to lift Hiro’s legs, hold them up, and position himself. Tadashi exhales, shakily; and, with one, hard thrust, he’s halfway inside of Hiro. He groans at the constriction, and Hiro whines. Tadashi has to pause, because he’s all too aware that he’ll come if he moves any faster. He tucks his head into the crook of his own shoulder and just _feels_.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Hiro,” Tadashi whispers.

Hiro pants as the heels of his feet rub against the mattress, an attempt to steady himself from the pressure of Tadashi’s cock pushing further, harder. Without warning, Tadashi straightens his back, sinking completely inside and causing Hiro to yell out.

“F-Fuck—! Tadashi, _please_.”

Tadashi’s cock is sliding right against his prostrate. It must be a coincidence, he thinks; there’s no way Tadashi has already memorized the angle. Still, Hiro shifts and twists his hips against the push of Tadashi’s. He can feel every inch of him, now. He swears, even, he can feel that particular vein on the underside of the man’s cock sliding against his insides, and he breathes in, out, over and over, trying to form coherent sentences.

They shouldn’t be doing this in the penthouse, he thinks. The lab, the dorms—those have been risky, too, but _this_ is something else. It’s so goddamn dangerous, and Hiro knows Tadashi senses it, because that dark lure in his eyes tells him he has every intention of claiming Hiro, right now.

Hiro reaches down between his legs, taking his cock fingering over the beads of precome that leak. It’s mostly for show how he slides down on the small length, but when Tadashi groans and whispers his name back, Hiro goes faster.

He loves how Tadashi is staring down at him. This raw, heated look of possessiveness. _Oh_ , to consider what thoughts are fighting each other inside his mind. Hiro, although focused, finds himself too caught in the troubled whirlwind of his own arousals that it doesn’t even _faze_ him when he starts to beg louder. The enthusiasm matches the writhing of hips, and his nails dig into Tadashi’s backside as he yells.

“More,” he demands. It’s not a request; it’s a demand, and he’s biting at his lip, murmuring through his words. “‘Dashi, _harder_. Harder, ‘Dashi. Please, ‘Das— _Daddy_ , please.”

Tadashi stutters in his movements. 

His eyes refocus, and he stops just to catch Hiro’s eyes.

They’re both panting, and they both know what just happened; but, Hiro doesn’t look like he wants to take it back. Those large brown eyes stare back at him with a poignant lust, and Tadashi shivers.

“Hiro…” 

Pride, thick and electric, fills Tadashi’s stomach. Possessiveness clouds his judgment, and he takes Hiro’s ankles to throw them over his shoulders. 

It allows him to lean closer, to push into Hiro with his thighs under the boy’s spine. It’s so easy to grab his hips and pull, to watch himself slide in and out. _God_ , he needs to play along with this, because his orgasm suddenly depends on it. 

“Do you like that, baby?” he asks, grabbing at Hiro’s chin and keeping eye-contact. “You like Daddy’s cock?”

He thinks Hiro might come right then, but Tadashi quickly moves his fingers around the boy’s cock and stops it. He smirks, and gives one hard thrust as a punishment. No coming, not yet, not when Tadashi has to restrict himself so he can give Hiro the best pounding of his life. 

He picks up the pace again, biting his way down Hiro’s skin and down his throat, teeth dragging and leaving red marks. He’s starting to feel Hiro clench against him in revenge for stopping him from coming. Tadashi groans, low and dirty. He rips away from Hiro in the next moment and is shocked by how cold the air of the room is on his cock. 

“Turn over,” he orders, throwing Hiro’s ankles back to the bed. “Ass up.”

Hiro hesitates, whispers a very shaky _no_ and stares at Tadashi, eyes half-lidded and defiant enough that the man knows this is still a game.

“Make me, Daddy.”

Tadashi’s arms seize down, collecting Hiro’s small limbs into a vice grip before he tosses the smaller body over. Hiro stuffs his face in the pillow, half-humiliation, half-fatigue as he feels Tadashi pushing down his thighs and positioning himself back against his hole. Hiro whimpers and lifts his hips, showing his already well-fucked ass and teasing Tadashi with several impish, little shakes.

It’s all too familiar, to Hiro. The game, the play, the lines. But, for so long, now, it’s been real. His father will push him down, wrap his hands around his throat and force Hiro to beg, to repeat his name, over and over as he enters him, stretching him wide.

“Daddy…” he whispers. “Oh, _God_ , Daddy.”

Tadashi doesn’t care. He gives a hard slap, which sends Hiro’s hips falling back to the mattress and a loud whine escape his lips. There’s no recovery, for him. Tadashi grabs his hips and forces him back up before he slides his cock inside, hard and unreserved.

He knows Hiro does this with his father. Maybe even this bed, this room. Tadashi nearly growls as he pushes into Hiro, grabbing his hips and his waist and anywhere else just to jerk Hiro back onto his dick. At this point, it’s the idea that’s getting Tadashi off, not the friction. The idea that Hiro adores his real daddy so much but not enough that he can’t scream for more of another man’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, you’re so— _Jesus_ , Hiro, I’m gonna—”

He crowds Hiro’s space and looms over his back. Tadashi traces one hand down Hiro’s stomach, to his little cock that’s leaking all over the sheets that, hopefully, his father will find later. Slowly, while he’s immobile and buried far inside of Hiro, he starts to stroke and tease. 

“You’re gonna take your daddy’s come,” he taunts, feeling Hiro shake beneath him and loving it. “You’re gonna be so full, aren’t you?”

Hiro drools, nods. He knows he’s bruising from how Tadashi holds him down, how his teeth sink into his neck and shoulders. Even if Alistair decides never to pursue Hiro again, these marks will be seen. Alistair will know how hard Tadashi fucked him, how deep inside he came.

“Please,” he begs. He shakes Tadashi’s grip from one arm and reaches back, feeling where Tadashi’s large, thick cock is entering him. “ _Nngh_ , Daddy—please. Come inside me, Daddy.”

He envisions how hard Tadashi will spill into him. He imagines his father, later tonight, spreading his legs and seeing the evidence. He’d fuck him, immediately, Hiro thinks. Fill him up with even more come, until he’s positively dripping come all down his legs He thrusts back on Tadashi’s cock, allowing it to sink so far into him that his stomach is momentarily gutted by the pressure, the stretch.

It’s so goddamn hot how Tadashi holds down his waist, pumping into his tight hole and reminding Hiro how dirty, filthy he is, how he deserves this brutal, heavy fucking. Hiro’s voice is loud, almost shrill, as he comes, falling against the mattress and shaking as the older man continues above him.

It doesn’t take long for Tadashi to empty into Hiro. He buckles over and comes hard, so hard he shakes and leaves bruises on Hiro’s hips from gripping so hard. He sees white. 

“Shit.”

Tadashi pulls out. There’s a filthy sound that follows, and he watches his come seep out. He can’t help himself; he smears it, making sure Hiro knows how much is inside him. Tadashi waits for Hiro to roll over and pushes his fingers into the boy’s mouth. Hiro’s tongue lolls over them, and they make hooded eye contact as Tadashi shoves them so deep that Hiro gags. 

Hiro looks spent, wrecked. They pull apart, only to readjust against the bed, where Tadashi urges him close and Hiro swings his legs over the man’s thighs. Hiro can feel Tadashi’s heart beating a mile a minute. He stuffs his face into his shoulder and exhales.

“I wasn’t… thinking about him, just so you know,” he says. “That’s not why I said it.”

Tadashi doesn’t say anything but nods against him. Any shame in Hiro’s voice isn’t spoken for the expected reasons, and Tadashi thinks, maybe, he understands it. Sex still isn’t anything else, for Hiro. It’s all dirty words and frantic claims. He’s never had normal sex. Maybe he doesn’t want to; maybe some kind of deeper meaning behind sex is terrifying, for Hiro.

Aside from Hiro, Tadashi has only ever had sex with Robert—and, even that has, often times, felt significant. They had a foundation before sex entered the picture. Robert took his virginity. Robert made him feel safe and good and _special_. Their sex has been passionate in all regards. Loving, even.

“It’s okay,” Tadashi assures. “You don’t have to explain it.”

Neither of them say anything, afterward. They listen to each other’s breathing, and Tadashi only distantly wonders about the time. After another moment, Hiro shifts against him.

“I lied, to you, before,” Hiro says, an abrupt but soft change in his voice. If Hiro were thinking coherently enough, he’d remember how foolish this is to admit. “I lied about my dad not knowing about the internship moving to SFIT. I’m sure you knew that, though. But, he’s the one who pulled the strings to do it, because he wanted me to convince you to sell Baymax.”

Tadashi closes his eyes. The fingers stroking at Hiro’s hair hesitate for a few seconds before he starts to resume the movements. He suspected as much, and not just because of Robert. But, he doesn’t think he ever expected Hiro to be so honest. 

“God. I knew he was using you. I mean, maybe not like that, but I knew there was something.”

Then, Hiro starts to laugh. It’s bizarrely cold, apathetic. “I mean, I wanted to do it,” he admits. “I like challenges, and I like making my dad happy. I didn’t really think it through, though. It sort of spiraled out of control.”

“He should’ve known better,” Tadashi replies. “He should’ve known not to—exploit you, especially after what your mom did. There’s no difference there.”

“Christ,” Hiro sighs out. He doesn’t want to think about the similarity, right now. “You know, sometimes I think I miss her. Don’t get me wrong; I hated her, and I’m fuckin’ glad she’s dead, but… I don’t know. At least I’d feel a little more normal, if she were here. Even if she were pressuring me to suck some old man’s dick so we’d have a place to stay for the night.”

Tadashi’s grip on his waist goes tighter. “Hiro…” he whispers. “Did she… Was she the one that made you start with—your father?”

“No,” Hiro tells him. “I told you: I seduced him. Nothing about his relationship with my mom was real, but I knew how important keeping _the_ Alistair Krei was, to her. Mostly, when I decided to make a move, I was thinking about how it was finally time I took something, from her.”

Kids aren’t supposed to think this way, yet Hiro makes a living off it. Tadashi rolls a little and pulls the boy into his chest. When was the last time Hiro cuddled anyone? Does he do it with his father? 

Hiro is a small, warm bundle in his arms. His hair is soft, his skin is softer, and Tadashi dares to wrap their legs around one another. This is nice, he thinks. Listening to Hiro, just listening, and holding him like he’ll melt away from speaking his words. 

“You deserved better than what your mom did,” he says, honestly, gently. “You still do. You deserve to be safe, Hiro.”

And, not available for older men. Tadashi knows he doesn’t have room to speak, but he’s also not a predator. He’s not sleeping with Hiro because he’s young. He likes him. And, while it may have taken him up to this point to realize it, he knows, now, he’s not going to escape it.

“She was such a terrible bitch, Tadashi,” Hiro sighs out. “Even when she was trying to be somewhat decent. All she ever cared about was money. I know she was planning something with Alistair... Probably going to divorce him without warning and take all his money.”

Or, worse. The kind of worse that he and his father inflicted on her. Hiro has to pull away from Tadashi when he thinks about that. If Tadashi knew... God, he already thinks Hiro is fucked up because of everything else. He’d probably never want to speak to him again. He’d probably report him to the police. He doesn’t want Alistair to be right about not being able to trust anyone else.

“Anyway, sorry,” Hiro quickly says. He begins reaching for his clothes. “You’re not, like, my therapist, or whatever. You shouldn’t have to listen, to me.”

Tadashi rises and reaches for his pants, but he’s focused on Hiro’s body language. The boy is uncomfortable, probably because he doesn’t normally share like this with anyone, and it’s unfair. He shouldn’t be afraid to speak. Tadashi waits for him to get dressed and then walks over to wrap him up in a hug. 

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you told me.”

There’s not much time for clean up before they start making their way out of the penthouse. Hiro can still feel Tadashi’s come between his legs. It’s drying, now—a bit less than pleasant—but, the distant ache in his thighs gives Hiro satisfaction.

They walk out together and over to the elevator. Tadashi has a protective hand on Hiro’s shoulder, just to remind him that someone is there. He needs to make the mood lighter before he goes insane, so he swoops down to kiss Hiro with a grin. 

“You’re cute,” he whispers against Hiro’s lips, teasing and light. “You know that? Managed to get me to actually like you.”

Tadashi catches him smiling, smug in his usual way, as they wait for the elevator.

“Of course I got you to like me,” he appraises. “I knew I would. I told you, ‘Dashi: Men can’t resist me.”

Tadashi gives him a look in return, which causes Hiro to laugh. It’s clear the older man doesn’t appreciate the jab but at least it’s lighthearted. He doesn’t break the embrace. Hiro reaches up and kisses his cheek, then asks Tadashi what he’ll be up to for the rest of the day. Tadashi shrugs, says he’ll keep studying.

“I, um—I hope you don’t think I’m kicking you out,” Hiro says on the ride down. “What are you doing, tomorrow? We could go somewhere, if you want. We don’t have to just stay inside all day, fucking. I mean, unless that’s what you want.”

They share another bout of laughter as the elevator doors open.

Tadashi stops, mid-laughter, when he sees Alistair Krei in the lobby. 

He feels Hiro jerk, like he doesn’t know how to react, and Tadashi just stares. He knows they look well-fucked. He knows Hiro’s messy hair and flushed cheeks are all-too telling. There are a few seconds where Alistair Krei’s eyes run over the both of them as he realizes where they came from and what they did; and, then, he snaps. 

Alistair surges forward, shouting something, and the next thing Tadashi knows is that he’s seeing white and colliding with the ground. He doesn’t know much beyond pain, being hit and trying to protect himself. He feels a few more blows of stinging pain before Alistair’s weight is yanked away from him. 

“Fuck—Dad, stop!” Hiro yells, barricading himself between the two men. 

The doorman has taken the task of holding Alistair back, but there’s fire in his eyes. Hiro has never seen Alistair look this angry. Just like he’s certain Alistair has probably never heard him Hiro laugh, just moments ago.

“You piece of _shit_ ,” Krei seethes. “Who do you think you _are_?”

Tadashi tastes metallic blood on his tongue, and his head throbs. He doesn’t understand the question, because his world is still spinning. A woman, who had been leaving to walk her dog, helps him up off the ground, and he stumbles, unsure what he’s supposed to say. 

“You’re a psychopath,” he chokes out, wiping his mouth. He takes a step forward, ready to fight back, but Hiro turns and pushes him back, gently. “Hiro…”

“Would you like us to call the police, sir?” the woman asks Tadashi.

Hiro speaks up, for him. “No,” he says. “No. We’re fine.”

The woman and the doorman share a glance, but she pulls at her dog’s leash, and starts to move away. The doorman, however, continues to keep Alistair in place.

“Go upstairs, Dad,” Hiro demands when he looks back at his father. “Christ. You’ve done enough, okay?”

“Don’t you dare talk back, to me, Hiro,” he says. “After—after what you’ve done, you’re just going to stand here and continue to humiliate me?”

“Just… go,” Hiro nearly pleads. “Please?”

He turns and presses his hand against Tadashi’s face, gentle enough with the sore skin and wiping away at the blood from his split lip. His nose isn’t broken, thankfully. Most of the damage is on his lip, which he probably scraped himself on the way down. He gives the older man a sympathetic look, then grabs at his hand, squeezing it.

“I’m okay,” Tadashi tells Hiro, although the soft fingers on his face feel nice after such a brutal beating. He smiles. Behind them, Alistair flares. “Help clean me up, okay?”

Hiro nods and starts to move toward the lobby bathrooms.

“Hiro.”

The boy pauses when his father calls out his name, hard and impatient. They stare at one another, and Hiro feels Tadashi’s hand tighten around his own before pulling him away.

Alistair’s anger has leveled enough for the doorman to let him go; but, now, he looks betrayed. Hiro wants to ignore how gutted he feels, but it’s not normal, he thinks, to watch his father fall apart like this.

“I’ll be up, shortly,” he breathes out.

In the bathroom, Tadashi slouches against one of the cushioned chairs. Hiro catches their reflection in the mirror and sees just how suspect they look. Fuck. No wonder Alistair decked Tadashi. It’s inescapably clear what they’ve been doing all afternoon—not to mention, where they’ve been doing it. His father is probably going up there, now, to burn down the entire penthouse.

Hiro presses a wad of wet paper towels against Tadashi’s face. He winces but Hiro holds them in place, trying to soothe the sting.

“I’m sorry,” Hiro decides, softly. “Bad timing, huh?”

“Don’t apologize,” Tadashi says with a furrowed brow. “You didn’t do anything, Hiro.”

They were having such a good time, Tadashi thinks. Genuinely enjoying themselves, for the first time. And, Krei ruined it, like he ruins everything. He barely notices the pain when Hiro looks at him, now, like he cares and has always cared.

“I’ve… never seen him like that,” Hiro murmurs, brushing his fingers through Tadashi’s hair when the man takes hold of the towels. “He has a temper, but—he’s not violent. Not normally, anyway. I’m sorry, okay?”

“You need to stop sleeping with him,” Tadashi says, softly but firmly. He hates the thought of Hiro going back up there. “You can stay with me, you know. My dorm. We could sneak you in, or something.”

He has an extra toothbrush, towels. Maybe it’s not a top storey penthouse, but it’s safe. He just wants Hiro to be safe. God, he doesn’t deserve the life he’s had. Tadashi wonders if he’s gotten beatings worse than this from his mother’s boyfriends.

“Please, Hiro?”

Hiro averts his gaze. “It’s fine, Tadashi,” he replies. “He’s not going to hurt me, okay? He was mad. He’s always been—protective of me. Maybe he thought, I don’t know… Maybe it was because we fucked in the penthouse. Some kind of alpha male thing. I don’t know.”

As far as last night went, Hiro had assumed he and his father were already through. Now, Alistair is swinging punches and making threats. Alistair’s actions very clearly came from jealousy, not protection, and it’s confusing. Terrifying.

They still don’t know how to be father and son.

He exhales and continues to look at Tadashi, trying to read his expression. It’s not as hopeless as it is sad and disappointed. Hiro feels guilty for refusing the offer, but he also knows avoiding his father is only going to make things worse.

Eventually, the blood is wiped from Tadashi’s face and he looks somewhat normal. When Hiro starts to move away, Tadashi grabs at his hand and pulls him back. 

“You’re too good for him,” he says. “God, you deserve so much more than this, you know that, right?”

Hiro frowns. “I know I’m never going to be able to convince you he’s not a horrible person,” he reasons. “I mean, maybe Callaghan would deck me, too, if he knew what we were doing.”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Tadashi says, frustrated. “That’s the point. We’re allowed to have sex, Hiro. You’re allowed to make that choice. They don’t seem to understand that.”

In fact, they don’t understand to an almost alarming degree. Both Robert and Krei are deeply possessive, and neither of them will admit it. Tadashi’s face is going to alarm Robert beyond reason, come Friday.

“Please, promise me you’ll be careful?” he asks, quietly. He’s looking at the floor, counting tiles. “And, please, text me if you need someone to come get you.”

Tadashi doesn’t doubt his father would put Hiro on lockdown, cut his communication to the outside world, tell his workers not to answer his son’s requests for a driver. What scares Tadashi the most is that he thinks Hiro would endure anything from Krei, all for the sake some kinky relationship he still thinks is a game.

He pulls Hiro in again for another hug. It feels comforting to hold the boy in his arms, and he realizes, now, how terrified he is of the prospect of never doing it again. “

“Be safe. Please.”

“I will, Tadashi,” Hiro says against the man’s chest. “I promise.”

When they pull apart, Hiro reaches into his pocket for his phone and says he’s going to ask his driver to drop Tadashi back off at SFIT. Tadashi protests, but Hiro ignores him, and they wait outside the building together, away from the eyes of the curious doorman.

“If you get, like, a deadly infection in your mouth and have to have surgery and take leave from school for, like, two years, I promise I’ll pay all your bills,” Hiro says, filling the silence. Tadashi laughs at the statement but Hiro means it. He grabs Tadashi’s hand. “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

The car pulls up, and Hiro strains himself on his tip toes to kiss Tadashi on the cheek. It’s strange, saying goodbye like this, he thinks. It feels very dramatic.

“Text me,” Tadashi says as he climbs inside. “I mean it. I’ll call you a thousand times, if you don’t.”

“Okay, okay.”

Hiro gives an exaggerated groan of annoyance before the driver shuts the door. Just as the driver climbs back in, and the vehicle starts to move, Hiro takes out his phone.

> put ice on ur mouth when u get back   
>  Sent at 6:11 p.m.

Back inside, the doorman asks if everything is all right. It’s fine, Hiro assures. Just a misunderstanding. The doorman looks less than convinced, but he knows he won’t say anything. Hiro wonders what the hell the guy thinks if transpiring within the Krei family. Hiro is suddenly thankful most everyone in the building keeps to themselves; this shouldn’t make any headlines.

When Hiro returns upstairs, he isn’t the least bit surprised to find his father with an opened bottle of scotch. Has he been inside Hiro’s room? Did he investigate the entire penthouse, trying to figure out where everything transpired? Probably.

“You had _no_ right to do that,” Hiro hisses out. He storms up to his father, ripping the freshly poured glass of whiskey out of his hands and glaring up at him. “We’re over. You said so yourself, last night.”

“Excuse me, if I expected you to be slightly _less_ of a slut for more than a fucking day,” Alistair spits back. “Moving right along, aren’t you?”

Tadashi Hamada has some kind of nerve. Unbelievable, truly, that either of them thought they could come here and do what they did. 

It was extremely satisfying to see Hamada’s face doused in his own blood, though. Ideal. He closes his eyes and sighs at the memory, at the look on Hamada’s face as he stood up and wiped at his nose. 

“Your precious boyfriend isn’t allowed anywhere near my home,” he says, stiffly. He snatches the glass back and downs it, nearly shattering it when he slams it back on the counter. “I thought that would be clear. Did he fuck you well, Hiro? Or, did you think of me while he used you like a fucking toy?"

Hiro could never be fully satisfied with Hamada’s inferior cock. There’s no way Hiro got off without his father on his mind. Alistair is certain of this; but, the way Hiro’s eyes darken and his lips raise into a smile is so beyond deranged that it’s _frightening_ . The boy leans in closer to his father. It’s an intentional waft of air that allows Alistair to catch the scent of another man, and his stomach sinks.

“I called him _Daddy_ ,” Hiro whispers, low, harsh; “and, it wasn’t because I was thinking about you, _Alistair._ Why would I? You’re done thinking about me, aren’t you?”

He throws his head back in laughter but doesn’t move otherwise.

“Did you see your lost love again, today?” Hiro taunts, grabbing his father’s chin and forcing the older man to keep looking at him. “Something tells me you didn’t. I know how you look when you’ve fucked. No one has bothered to touch you, have they? Poor thing.”

Hiro licks his lips and makes a small, teasing noise as he keeps close. He’s tormenting his father as much as he’s settling the desire within to reassure himself the man still wants him. Hiro needs that, he’s learned. It’s unhealthy, fucked up, but he can’t escape it. He knows Tadashi would be ashamed of him, if he knew how he continued to act in front of his father. Somehow, he can’t get himself to care about that.

“You’re going to have to live with this, you know,” he says. “We’re still stuck with each other. I’m not going anywhere for another four years. Do you really think you can keep your hands off me?”

Alistair heaves. “You’re fucking arrogant for someone who only gets a boyfriend after blackmailing him,” he snaps, forcing Hiro’s hand away and shoving him backward.

 _Boyfriend_. The word is sour on his tongue. It’s not supposed to be that way, he thinks. Hiro isn’t supposed to have a boyfriend. They may have never agreed to any terms in their relationship, not outside of heated, possessive sex; but, he’s been enough of an idiot to believe those lines. He remembers hard grasps and fierce promises—“I would never, Daddy,” Hiro once panted; “I’m _all_ yours, only _yours_!”—and, _God_ , what Alistair would give to hear that one last time.

How is he supposed to sleep in this house, knowing that Hiro fucked Hamada in here? How is he supposed to look at the bed in that forgotten room and not think about them fucking on it? He pictures all the touches and the whispers of passion and feels himself growing ill. 

It’s not supposed to be this way. They didn’t kill for this.

He can’t be here anymore. The penthouse feels oppressive and dirty, like it’s been tainted by Hamada’s dark presence. Fucker. That vile, horrific fucker ruined everything, took everything, all while Hiro continues to stand here, exerting a sickening power that staggers Alistair’s heart, mind and soul.

“You can’t torture anyone, if you’re alone,” Alistair proclaims as he grabs his phone and charges for the door. “And, what are you without that, Hiro?”


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair storms out of the building. His body feels hot. His brow is sweating. And, by the time he’s reached the end of the block, he’s tearing off his suit jacket and throwing it to the ground with a collection of curses.

He wants to burn it and everything he owns. Everything associated with him, really—including the penthouse, his office building and every Krei Tech shop within a fifty mile radius.

Ideally, what he’d like most is to find Tadashi Hamada and beat the living shit out of him. One punch wasn’t enough. He wants to see the man back on the ground, bleeding and begging for his life. He wants Hamada to _know_ how pathetic he is, to know he’ll never win, even if—

—even if—

_I called him Daddy._

All at once, Alistair’s rage turns to grief, and his heart constricts. The words echo in his head, over and over. He doesn’t want to picture the intimacy attached to it, because the images make him feel sick. Hamada doesn’t deserve to hear that. He’s too much of a fucking bottom, and he’s too busy getting rammed by Robert to know anything about what that word means. What it means between Alistair and his son. What they sacrificed to be able to say that during such intimate moments. Hamada probably thinks it’s just some goddamn kink.

He wishes he were the type to cry. Alistair thinks he’d feel a lot better if he could just scream and wail and let it all out until his voice was hoarse. 

But, he can’t feel bad, for himself. Truthfully, this is what he gets, what he deserves. God is probably punishing him. He’s never been a good person. Robert was right to come antagonize him, the other day. In fact, Robert is where all of this started. If Alistair hadn’t been such a selfish bastard, he could probably still be with the only man with whom he’s ever had some kind of stability.

Alistair hates thinking this way, of course. It’s not as though his relationship with Hiro isn’t saturated with emotion and passion. That’s the very problem.

It’s too much feeling. An overwhelming amount of it. Alistair can’t stop thinking about this fourteen-year-old boy, and it’s dangerous and unhealthy.

Alistair doesn’t know when he started walking again, but he’s already halfway across the district. If people are staring at him, he doesn’t notice. He’s just walking, eyes downcast, until the luminescent glow of SFIT’s library catches his attention.

Against better judgment, Alistair approaches; and, soon, he’s walking up the stairs and under the arch. He’s unfamiliar with the university’s layout. Despite the occasional appearance as a guest speaker, he’s tried his best to avoid SFIT over the years, preferring not to be in the same vicinity as Robert. The bright library acts as a guide toward the center of the campus, and the array of lamp posts almost gives the illusion of an earlier hour.

Alistair grabs his phone from his back pocket. He’s unsurprised to find that Hiro hasn’t tried to contact him. Hiro doesn’t care. Of course he doesn’t. Hamada must be back on campus, by now, and the two are probably exchanging profane, filthy messages. The thought of Hiro ever sending the types of photos he usually shares with his father puts a pit in Alistair’s stomach. He feels an overpowering temptation to, somehow, locate the man and put a stop to this all, once and for all.

It could be done.

He could do it.

He’s already gotten away with it once. Who’s to say it couldn’t be repeated? Tadashi Hamada is a nobody. Just a promising young student, and Lord knows there are plenty of those being cranked out, every year. 

It’s a vicious fantasy, but Alistair allows it. He imagines, in some form, it’s not any worse than anything else he’s done in his lifetime. Even if Hiro, in all his warped emotions, chose to grieve, he’d get over it—eventually. He’d soon remember the intimacy he shared with his father. No one else.

And, maybe then, everything would go back to normal. 

“Alistair?”

He knows the voice, the tone. The mad, irrational thoughts vanish, and he’s spinning around, nearly dropping his phone before he’s staring, so forbiddingly, at Robert Callaghan.

And, it’s a mirage, Robert thinks. Some sort of terrible, subconscious hallucination in his mind that Freud would love to dissect and criticize. Robert imagines that his own expression—mouth agape but eyes drawn narrow and critical—must have been the very same Alistair adorned, just days ago. He can’t remember it, though. He had been shaking too much, convinced of being escorted off Krei Tech property.

Now, as they lock eyes in silence, Robert clutches his briefcase even tighter. Alistair isn’t even wearing his suit jacket, and he looks panicked, startled, and— 

_—something else._

Robert can’t place it; but, the way Alistair stands there, lost, tells him this isn’t just some retribution for when he chose to pay the younger man a visit at his workplace. 

“What are you doing here, Alistair?” The tone is still accusatory, though. Suspicious. “You look—ill.”

Alistair’s eyes slip shut. “I’m not here to—”

“To what?” Robert interrupts. But, then, he’s shaking his head and giving a dry laugh. “You know what, never mind. Whatever it is, I don’t have time for it.”

Let someone else deal with him. Let a group of overly excited students hound _the_ Alistair Krei with questions as to why he’s loitering around SFIT at eight o’clock at night. Robert starts to walk away.

“Wait,” Alistair calls out. Robert keeps moving. “Wait. Christ, Robert. Just wait, okay?”

Robert only stops when he hears Alistair following him. He turns and, although his features have softened, it remains cautious.

“Are you…?” he starts, carefully. “Are you all right? Is—Hiro okay?”

Now, it’s Alistair’s turn to laugh. “He’s fine,” he says. “Christ, of course he’s fine. Hiro is _always_ fine. He makes sure of that.”

Robert can’t help but look around to make sure no one is within an earshot. He can see students walking in the distance, heading back toward the dorms. Slowly, Robert takes a step back toward Alistair. His car keys jangle in his other hand.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

Alistair hesitates. He didn’t come here to see Robert. He didn’t even consider it on a subconscious level—at least, he doesn’t think he did—,but, seeing him, now, hearing him ask what’s wrong, makes Alistair feel at ease. When was the last time Hiro asked if something was wrong, if he was okay? Has he _ever_ asked?

Alistair thinks, maybe, he’s been waiting for someone to ask that exact question for the past twenty years.

“Alistair…”

He shakes his head and tries to pretend like he’s been present. “Would it be—completely asinine to ask, if we could go somewhere?” he asks, hopes, prays. “I could really use a drink.”

The request, although bold, doesn’t necessarily surprise Robert. He hates how, after all these years, he can still read Alistair so well. The torment pinning itself to Alistair is such a cry for help, but— _they shouldn’t_. He shouldn’t. This is bad, bad, _bad_ ; but, _goddammit_ , he could use a drink, too.

“Fine,” he concedes. He gestures for Alistair to follow. “One drink.”

Neither of them speak, then. They’re silent on their way to the parking lot and, for a long moment, Robert hesitates to start the car. This doesn’t feel real. Alistair, disheveled and anxious, is sitting in his passenger seat. They’re locked inside a six foot perimeter, and Robert feels very aware of _everything_. Alistair’s cologne. The creases in his pants. His long, well-shaped legs that require the man to push back the seat. Does Alistair know Tadashi was the last person to sit in that seat? Is he thinking about the kisses Robert has shared with his student in this small, cramped vehicle?

Heart still hammering, Robert turns the ignition. “When was the last time you rode in a car that wasn’t some kind of private, luxury vehicle?” he asks, trying to sound light-hearted. It helps. “Do _you_ even remember how to drive?”

“I haven’t had a reason to,” he admits with a chuckle.

Not entirely true. Alistair has thought, more than once, about eventually teaching Hiro. They call it a rite of a passage, after all, and Alistair thinks it’s his responsibility. He refuses to just drop Hiro off on some instructor. Much like his decision to give Hiro that graduation card, the idea of, some day, teaching his son how to drive, is one of the few thoughts that remains entirely parental.

“Any ideas where to go?” Robert then asks. He keeps his eyes focused on the road. “I’m sure the last thing you want, right now, is for some paparazzi to snap a photo of you having a drink with a well-known fag.”

“Well-known?” Alistair echoes. “Someone certainly thinks highly of themselves.”

“Oh, piss off,” Robert murmurs, but the very edge of his mouth quirks. “I’ve still made a name, for myself. The Catmull-Callaghan Spline is one thing you failed to steal, from me.”

Alistair’s heart leaps. He wants to laugh—he thinks Robert _wants_ him to—but, he’s too stunned by the man’s audacity to do anything except gape and swear, quietly.

* * *

It’s not a long drive. They arrive somewhere in the lower heights of the city. Robert parks on the street, just adjacent to a weathered brick building, which Alistair refuses to believe is the chosen establishment until he sees the older man approaching the carved doorway. Alistair supposes, at their age, they qualify for a good, old fashioned dive bar.

Inside, the well-worn walls are adorned with Christmas lights. There are three dollar drink specials listed on a chalkboard, and a pool table occupying the center of the back room. No one so much as glances at them as they make their way toward the bar.

“Shot of whiskey,” Robert tells the bartender; “and, whatever is best on tap.”

Alistair raises his brow. “I’ll need more than a shot.”

Just after they raise their drinks in a silent toast, Alistair downs the shot. It’s unpleasant, and it burns his throat. He dares not to inquire about the brand, because he knows it’s cheap. Regardless, there’s an instant sense of relief that comes from the liquor. Alistair nods at the bartender and gestures toward Robert’s drink. He’s quickly delivered a matching beer.

“You can gloat, if you’d like,” Alistair murmurs against the rim of his glass. They walk toward the back of the bar and find a table. “I’m sure you’d love to tell me off again.”

When they sit, Robert manages enough courage to keep eye contact. Alistair looks and sounds broken; nothing like the calm confidence he held during their previous encounter. There’s no way this isn’t about Tadashi and Hiro. And, hell—Robert hasn’t heard from the former all day, so he has enough sense to draw conclusions.

“I’m not going to do that,” Robert decides, evenly.

He’s seen Alistair like this maybe once, twice. Early on in their relationship, before that darker side started to reveal itself. Alistair had been sensitive, once. There had been an instance where he professed how unworthy he felt compared to Robert and his accomplishments. Robert appreciated the vulnerability and had thought, at the time, their ability to communicate with one another surpassed the threat’s origin. But, there had been so much more to Alistair that Robert had yet to see. Ugly things. Terrifying, possessive things.

“I thought you weren’t concerned about them,” he then says. At that, Alistair continues drinking, and it looks as though he’s about the chug the entire glass, so Robert reaches across the table and stops him. “Hey, take your time. Christ.”

He doesn’t mean to let his hand wander down and rest on the younger man’s shoulder; but, it’s the only thing that allows Alistair to set down his glass and stare back at him, complacent.

“Just… Can you tell me what happened?”

It’s then that Alistair fumes. “Your fucking twink happened,” he spats. The warmth of Robert’s hand feels alien, but it’s also so familiar that he has to wrench himself away. It feels physically painful to remember that touch. “They were in my house. Together.”

It sounds far less intimidating, far less incriminating, when Alistair says it like that. Because, so what? So what if they were fucking? It doesn’t mean anything. Even if they start dating and fall in love and get married, it won’t mean that Alistair has any sort of control over it. But, God, he wishes he did.

“I mean, the nerve of that boy,” he says with gritted teeth. “The fucking nerve to walk into my home and fuck my son. And, Hiro… He didn’t even _stop_ to think—”

Hell, he probably did it on purpose. Hiro made his malevolence clear enough with that spiteful proclamation of what he called Hamada in bed.

“I don’t know what this all means,” he admits, shakily. “I don’t know why I care so much. I shouldn’t. I have no right to care what he does, or who he fucks, but watching him… _Fuck_ , I don’t want to lose him, Robert.”

Robert sips at his beer and tries to think of the right thing to say. “He’s… your son,” he reminds him. It sounds ridiculous, though. “I guess I still don’t—understand. Understand how this happened, I mean. Even if he wasn’t your stepson, he’s fourteen, Alistair. I never thought you were like that.”

_A pedophile._

Because he has to be in order to consider sleeping with a teenage boy—right? It’s not even just his age. Hiro looks like a child. Behaves like one, too. Hiro is small and thin and has a pouty, baby face. Robert recalls how the boy smiled at him in the lab, a small but noticeable gap between his two front teeth. Alistair can’t possibly look at Hiro and see an adult, a potential life partner.

Then again, it’s not like Tadashi is, either. It may be different, sure; Tadashi is legal, but he’s still a child, in many ways, too. He has so much life experience to gain. It’d be cruel of Robert to deny him all of that by forcing him into a monogamous relationship with a man who is, arguably, old enough to be his grandfather.

“There’s probably a lot I don’t know about you anymore,” Robert then offers, shrugging.

He watches Alistair’s expression change in the dim lighting of the bar. It becomes less heavy and much more hardened. Perhaps there’s a flicker of shame for allowing himself to be so easily read. Robert’s questions are valid, though. He doesn’t understand any of this about Alistair.

“When I heard about your marriage, it surprised me,” he admits. “Maybe it shouldn’t have, though. We both know how this world is, this industry. I understood the logic behind it. But, I never understood _her_.”

A socialite, and the very definition of a trophy wife. Photographs of her have been burned into Robert’s memory since the moment he read that headline about Alistair Krei’s engagement. 

“Maemi was—persuasive,” Alistair replies; “and, deep down, I still thought I could be straight. I thought, this is the perfect opportunity. Right here, a wife and a son. Picture perfect.”

What a farce. It didn’t work, because it never works; and, if there’s anything good that came from this self-inflicted tragedy, it’s that Alistair is starting to realize that being straight is an illusion.

“Things got complicated, I take it,” Robert offers, urging Alistair to continue.

“That’s one word for it.”

Both men are halfway done with their beers. There’s a distant buzz starting to develop within Alistair, but Robert feels unaffected. He probably should have taken a shot of whiskey himself.

“Hiro… came on to you, then?” Robert asks “Or, was it—?”

Alistair scoffs. “He practically climbed into my lap the second she looked away,” he tells him. Alistair is pretty sure Hiro would have done it with her looking, though. Hiro didn’t give a shit what Maemi thought. Hell, maybe Maemi would have encouraged him. “He certainly takes after his mother.”

Alistair closes his eyes, and Robert tries to decipher what he’s thinking about, now. The situation is still outlandish, but it makes more sense to consider Hiro’s manipulative behavior was a result of his mother. She probably taught her son every trick in the book, and Hiro used it right back by seducing her husband. Christ, the kid seems to have broken Alistair Krei, and that’s no easy feat.

“So, it was happening while she was alive,” Robert assesses. “Was he upset, then? When she passed?”

For a split second, Alistair’s expression blanks. He recollects himself just as quickly but chooses to stare down at his beer. “She wasn’t good, to Hiro,” he says. “I’m not a perfect father, not by a long shot, but—there was a lot there, between Hiro and Maemi.”

That’s something to be expected, Robert thinks, as a result of a woman choosing to be a socialite over a mother. Hiro must have never come first, but he certainly saw enough of his mother’s behavior to pick up on it, to imitate it. Now, at fourteen, he’s seducing grown men. Those tales of married men originated somewhere, and Robert swallows, thickly, just thinking of how Hiro has abused his body.

“Why did you do it?” he asks, quietly. There’s an outburst from the men playing pool, a victorious uproar that momentarily has them silent. “Why did you decide it was okay to sleep with your son?”

“I didn’t,” Alistair says through gritted teeth. “I’m not insane. He just—it just happened.”

Robert flinches, and Alistair knows, then, what a pathetic excuse he’s just made. He feels his own self-hatred crawl up his back, and it’s agonizing. His world shouldn’t have crashed down when he saw Hamada and Hiro exiting the elevator, but _it did_. Even now, at the memory, his body feels a harsh, stabbing pain. There’s a biting emptiness in his chest when he thinks of how he’ll never kiss Hiro again, never feel his small body against his own.

“I love him,” he whispers. The noises around them—music, loud conversation, billiards crashing—become mere background noise, distant. “That’s—I love him, Robert.”

It’s heavy. It petrifies Robert as much as it does Alistair, right now, and he thinks he might feel the younger man shaking. Alistair Krei is in love with his son. His very underage, very fourteen year-old son. His son, who knows how to fucking manipulate every bit of this tragedy and is likely using it to his advantage. He must know Alistair will never abandon him. Meanwhile, Hiro gets to run off and play with Tadashi, torture him just as cruelly.

Robert allows himself a moment before he finishes his beer and sets it down. Alistair follows suit.

“I tried to get Tadashi to stay away,” Robert offers. It sounds as bitter as it does hopeless. “I was a fool to believe he’d listen. They’re—young. Headstrong. I think they admire a lot about each other.”

There’s something inquisitive about the way Alistair glances at him, now. Robert remembers that look all too well. Dark intrigue. Twisted curiosity. Robert would much prefer not to spend the night gossiping about his personal life, but maybe it’s fair game, now.

“I’ve been just as much of an idiot,” Robert admits. “If anyone were to ever expose us, my career would be over, and Tadashi’s credibility as an inventor would be doomed. I never thought I’d be one of those pathetic old fags. Desperate and stupid enough to be swayed by a young, cute college kid. Fuck, I was stupid enough to think we could keep it casual.”

Alistair offers a laugh as he waves over the bartender for another round. “I never think of casual when I think of you,” Alistair admits, only afterward realizing how it sounds. He meets Robert’s eyes, which is a mistake. There’s something there he recognizes. “You and I were so— _monogamous_. Remember that? Christ, you used to get jealous of my godmother.”

And, in turn, Alistair got jealous of just about everyone who talked to Robert. A handshake? That required a good, hard fuck to correct. A glance from across the room? Alistair would leave bruises along Robert’s neck to keep everyone aware. Even if he wasn’t out, he could still let them know that Robert belonged to someone.

“Can you blame me?” Robert says with a laugh. “Back then, you might not have been a billionaire, but everyone still wanted you. I imagine even more so, now.”

“Hardly,” he says, although it’s refreshing to envision a universe where men would openly pursue him, instead of gold digging women. “The press still sees me as a mourning widower and a single father. That doesn’t scream hot, available bachelor. At least you’ve got the handsome professor thing going, for you.”

One of the servers swings by the table to collect their empty glasses and replace them with their second round. The young man, tattooed and in desperate need of a haircut, barely glances up at them. It’s a relief. Alistair feels comfortable, here. He’s away from the world and his many, many problems.

“Believe me, Alistair,” Robert says, blandly; “I was not seeing much action until Tadashi. It’s not as though I ever made a habit out of sleeping with my students. Tadashi was the first.”

Alistair groans. “I think you could do a lot better than that twink.”

“He’s not a twink.”

“Oh, please,” Alistair dismisses. “He is absolutely a twink. I bet he doesn’t even have to shave.”

At that, Robert laughs. “You could’ve found out that one yourself,” he replies with humor. It’s daring, and he almost expects Alistair to blanch. Instead, the man slips him a grin. “Tadashi told me you hit on him, you know. During your meeting.”

It’s not often Alistair feels embarrassed, but he knows his face is heating up, now, and is grateful for the poor bar lighting. “Christ…” he curses. “I wasn’t thinking too clearly, that afternoon. Mostly, I just wanted a reaction out of him.”

Robert half-believes him. Alistair would probably never admit he finds Tadashi attractive, just out of the principle of the matter. He’s too caught up in jealousy, resentment. But, would he have actually gone through with the temptation, had Tadashi been willing? Before everything with Maemi, when was the last time Alistair had allowed himself to be with another man?

“I’m curious if Hiro was your solution for not coming out,” he states, abruptly. The hostility in his voice, which isn’t necessarily intended, takes Alistair by surprise. “Did you think, somehow, it’d work and that no one would ever find out?”

Alistair exhales. “I don’t know, Robert. I can’t explain it.”

“Do you think his mother knew, then?” he decides to ask. Even if Alistair deserves it, it’s not Robert’s intention to interrogate him; there’s a genuine curiosity, a _need_ to know. “Not so much about you two, but about—well, _you_.”

“It’s possible,” he reasons; “but, she was too self-centered to care, if she did. She was after my money. It’s not like she actually wanted a life with me. Jesus… I never understood how you accepted yourself and still married Sarah.”

The distant, sad smile that curves onto Robert’s lips is telling. “She was my high school sweetheart,” he says. “It certainly made sense, at the time. I’d probably still be married, to her.”

Unlike Alistair, whose marriage would’ve most likely ended with a messy divorce and even messier blackmail. After enough time, Maemi probably would’ve outed him.

To this day, Robert still wonders if Sarah ever suspected. But, their relationship had been founded on such a deep level of friendship. He loved her as deeply as he could, and her death had been devastating. Robert knows better than to ask about Maemi’s passing, because it’s even clearer, now, after learning of her behavior, how little Alistair felt, for his wife. He thinks he may not even want to hear about Alistair’s disdain. Sarah and Maemi may have been two entirely different people, but there’s a comparison there—one that feels unfair, and Robert shifts, uncomfortably, in his seat, just thinking about the bitter words Alistair could probably formulate about his dead wife.

“I don’t judge you for not coming out,” Robert then says, and Alistair’s heart starts to palpitate. “It wasn’t my place, and I pushed.”

And, Alistair pulled. It’s not unlike what has developed with Hiro. But, hearing that Robert actually understands is almost too much to handle. He thought Robert hated him for being weak. For not having the fortitude to come out. He downs the rest of his beer and drops his gaze to the wooden table, where about a hundred initials are carved into the surface.

“I don’t know what to say,” he breathes, honestly. “Christ, Robert. I thought you hated me.”

“I—could never hate you, Al,” Robert says. “I was young, too, back then. Well, _younger_. Looking back, out of all the problems in our relationship, you not coming out should’ve hardly been one of them.”

And, yet, he still let it contribute to tearing them apart. It’s probably exactly why, at the end of it all, Alistair’s anger drove him to thievery and betrayal.

They finish their drinks in silence. Alistair still hasn’t lifted his gaze. Once more, unfamiliarity creeps into the atmosphere, and Robert wishes he knew the right words to say. There’s probably so much Alistair wants to open up about: The marriage, the details of his affair with Hiro, the struggle that has come with years of staying silent about his identity. Robert wants to listen, but he’s starting to fear it’s not his place, that this isn’t something they should even be doing, right now.

“You okay?” Robert asks. “I could drive you home, if you’d like.” 

Alistair gives a quiet, dry laugh. “I don’t want to go back there,” he nearly whispers. “Not tonight. I—I can’t.”

“You should call your driver, then,” Robert suggests as he grabs for his wallet. He throws down a few bills onto the table. “I’m sure he’ll take you to a hotel of your choice. Although, I don’t think you should be letting Hiro walk all over you like this… It’s your home. You shouldn’t have to be afraid to go back there.”

He can’t see Hiro again. He’s already tipsy, and he knows he’ll just drink more, once he’s back at the penthouse. Hiro will recognize his vulnerability; he’ll push. And, Alistair knows, right now, he’s too weak—yet again—to do anything except fall back into bed with his son.

When Alistair looks back up at Robert, his heart pounds even faster, and his hand snaps out to grab Robert’s wrist before he puts away his wallet. His eyes become pleading.

“I don’t want to be alone, either,” he rushes out. “Christ. I’ll probably drink myself to death, at this point. Can I just—Robert, can I come with you?”

Robert quickly stands and pulls his wrist away. “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he stutters out. “My loft is hardly a five star hotel. I don’t even have a guest room.”

It’s an attempt at joke, Alistair recognizes. Robert doesn’t want to fight. But, Alistair stands, too, and he’s painfully aware, at this point, that he’s begging.

“I don’t care,” he implores. “I need a night away from him, and I—I feel better with you.”

“Alistair—”

_—don’t do this, please._

This is dangerous, and they both know it. This is absolutely the last thing to which either of them should be agreeing, but Robert is buzzed just enough from the alcohol to recognize how badly he wants to say _yes_.

“Please, Robert.”

Twenty years ago, Robert had begged the very same, and it was Alistair who turned away. Nothing had been solved, and everything had fallen apart. If they can fix this—even mend it a little—then, perhaps, this risk is worth taking, tonight.

Robert closes his eyes and breathes.

“Fine,” he concedes.

But, he has to turn away before Alistair can respond. The bartender offers a friendly wave and, soon, they’re back outside, where it’s cold and windy. Robert momentarily hopes—or, maybe, fears—that the fresh air will sober Alistair enough to have him change his mind. But, the younger man says nothing as they climb back into Robert’s car.

It’s quiet, then. Painfully so, and Alistair feels the distance close between them physically but not emotionally. Decades later, he thinks, and the two of them are still sexually magnetic. The gravitation, the heat. It’s still there, and Alistair is yearning for the normalcy.

“You feel that?” he whispers. He knows he’s tipsy; otherwise, he’d realize what a fucking moron he’s being. “God… It didn’t go away. We could be blind, and I think we’d still feel it. That energy.”

Robert doesn’t speak. It doesn’t do much to help the insinuation. But, _of course_ he feels it. He felt it in that small conference room, just a few days ago. He felt it in the bar. He feels it, now.

“I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Robert says as he drives.

Alistair concentrates on the city lights ahead of them and the quiet lull of whatever song is playing on the radio. His eyelids are going heavy. Maybe the alcohol is catching up, to him.

“I just want you to know that I regret it,” he whispers. “What I did to you, I mean. I’m sorry.”

Robert’s grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Don’t say that,” he replies, nervously. He doesn’t allow himself to feel overwhelmed by the apology. “You wouldn’t be who you are today, if you had stayed with me and started up some geeky little tech shop at the side of town.”

He hears Alistair sigh and, from the corner of his eye, he sees him shift in his seat to stare out his window. He keeps expecting Alistair to change his mind, to tell him to stop the car so that they can have another argument, declare their disgust for one another and not speak for another twenty years.

Instead, the silence remains and, ultimately, they arrive at Robert’s building.

It feels nostalgic, walking up the flight of stairs that leads to Robert’s loft. This isn’t the same apartment, or even the same part of town—and, neither of them are stumbling up the steps like they often did after a night of drinking—and, yet, Alistair has about a hundred similarities buried in his memory.

“It’s very you,” Alistair murmurs, glancing around at the easy mess of everyday living. “Sometimes, I hate the penthouse. It’s too clean. This is… nice. More like home.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being patronizing,” Robert says, uneasily. He throws his keys and wallet onto the kitchen counter, then reaches into the cabinet for some glasses. “I wouldn’t even know what to do with more than two storeys.”

Alistair watches the way Robert moves and feels a low, dark pit in his stomach that reminds him how much he missed this all. He could be in a room full of sculpted, godly young men, begging for his attention, and Robert would still be the one he’d lay eyes on, first.

It doesn’t hurt as much anymore, and that’s a miracle. Alistair never thought they could be amicable, yet here they are, teetering on the edge of something far more dangerous. It shouldn’t be an option. Alistair took a match to the kindling of what they were, and he had every intention of burning the bridges to keep them apart. It’s clear, now, he never did.

He follows Robert into the kitchen, which is unsurprisingly modern and chic. The man is pouring them some water, and Alistair can see the way his jaw is set in a tight line. He knows that look. He knows how Robert looks when he’s holding himself back.

 _Christ._ The tension is unbearable. Alistair doesn’t understand. How have they still not broken this wall down between them? The energy is so intense and cosmic. Alistair is barely containing himself.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the heartbreak, coming from Hiro. He doesn’t really care. This want for— _for something_ —is overwhelming.

“Do you remember when we used to get ready in the mornings?” he reminisces. “We could barely keep our hands off each other.”

“I remember,” Robert says. He doesn’t turn to face Alistair. “How could I forget?”

Alistair gets close and brushes Robert’s wrist. He makes the older man set the water pitcher on the counter, and they’re locking eyes as Alistair sneaks himself in between the solid surface and Robert’s body.

“You don’t want to do this,” Robert says, quietly. “First of all, you’re drunk. Secondly, if you want a rebound for your son, there’s plenty of young boys prowling Kabukicho Street. Face it, Alistair: It’s not me you want.”

Alistair gives a soft smile. “How do you know what I want?” he whispers, and Robert’s breath catches when he feels Alistair’s legs slide against his own. “This doesn’t have to be about him.”

Robert stares at the younger man—every part of his face—and starts to feel his chest caving in, crushing his lungs and forcing his breath to catch even more.

“But, it will be,” Robert insists, scoffing and shaking his head; “and, I don’t know if I can truly do this again. I can’t get over you a second time.”

He attempts to break away, but Alistair grabs his wrist. Robert struggles for a moment, nearly knocking over both glasses from the counter. Their subsequent gaze is heated, daring, and Robert can feel himself shaking.

“Al… We can’t.”

Robert hates that he can’t remember their last kiss. He hates he can’t remember their last hug, their last laugh, their last _anything_.

This is bad.

His resolve is shattering, and he trembles against the younger man, trying to find that last strain of self-restraint before he twists his arm out of Alistair’s grip, pushing him harder onto the edge of the counter and slamming their lips together.

Alistair groans. He didn’t think a body could hold so much memory, could hold so much significance. But, Robert still feels the same and sends him back to when they were just starting out. When Alistair closes his eyes, Robert is thirty again, and they’re back in their old apartment in the shitty side of town. Just kissing and laughing and _feeling_.

His fingers reach up to grab Robert’s hair, and he doesn’t feel the age like he thought he would. He imagines thick, brown locks between his fingers. His face feels the same, when Alistair caresses it. It’s aged, and there are wrinkles, but it’s still the same. Their lips disconnect, then reconnect, and it takes no thought on Alistair’s part to make the kiss go deeper.

Alistair feels vulnerable, but not in the same way he does with Hiro. He’s not afraid. He’s submissive. _God._ He hasn’t been fucked in so long. Alistair is shaking with want, with need, with memory.

“Missed you,” he pants, burying his face into Robert’s shoulder and biting down just to remember what it feels like to do so. “Fuck, fuck, I missed you.”

He can’t let Robert see how emotional he is, right now. He has tears in his eyes. Alistair quickly wipes them on Robert’s shirt, pulling the man ever closer because it doesn’t feel like enough. 

The passion overwhelms Robert with a kind familiarity; he’s grateful, beyond all else, that there’s no anger. Robert would be lying if he denied getting off to that fantasy, once or twice; their reunion, stormy and violent. In those visions, he’d throw Alistair down somewhere—anywhere, it didn’t matter—and fuck him, hard and unforgiving.

He doesn’t want that, now.

Robert breathes in Alistair’s scent as he pulls at the man’s shirt. Fuck. He still smells the same, too, beneath that new, foreign cologne. Alistair tastes the same, he thinks. Feels the same in every regard. His body is sharp and angular. His lips, soft and thin. 

“Come on,” Robert urges, heatedly. He doesn’t want this to be a quick fuck, a silly act of revenge on themselves and the two that are hurting them. “My room.”

They keep kissing, keep tearing at each other’s clothes. Robert’s legs feel heavy as he guides Alistair to his bedroom. The bed is neatly made. There’s a book and a glass of water on the nightstand, and he thinks of how much of an old man he must seem like, to Alistair, now. It’s almost funny, really, and Robert laughs against Alistair’s lips until he pushes him down onto the mattress and tears at his belt buckle.

Alistair knows this isn’t about rushing sex. This is about rushing to closeness. The faster they can be skin against skin, the faster they can cherish this reunion.

He’s never felt vulnerable with his shirt off. Not even before. But Robert gets him shirtless, and he feels very small under the older man’s gaze. He’s going to bottom. There’s no question. He’s going to bottom like he always did with Robert, and it has Alistair groaning and rutting against him

“Did you miss this?” he whispers, and he feels far too dizzy. God, they should turn off the light, so he can allow tears to fall without consequence. “Please, just—tell me you missed this.”

“Yes—God, of course,” Robert replies, heated, rushed. “I missed this, Al. So much.”

He can’t stop kissing Alistair’s neck, his chest. He’s more muscular than he was a decade ago. Abs more defined. He probably spends more time at the gym, Robert thinks; a personal trainer and everything. They used to go to the gym together. On some mornings, they would even run together in the park before coming back home, brewing a pot of coffee and having breakfast.

All those small, domestic things about their life feels all the more fragile, now. Could Robert ever share moments like that with Tadashi? Would Tadashi even want that? Of course he wouldn’t. Tadashi isn’t thinking in settling down. He’s eighteen; he’s interested in exploring himself, exploring others. He’d never want to spend his mornings, discussing current events with a man old enough to be his father.

“Still so goddamn good looking, asshole,” he breathes out against Alistair’s hipbone. He laughs, feels the vibrations of Alistair’s laughter right back, then pulls at the man’s waistbands. “Fuck, Al…”

His cock is hard, twitching. Robert wraps a single hand around it, recalling the weight, the smooth underside that always felt so good against his palm. He’s bigger than Tadashi. Not by much. Mostly just thicker, Robert thinks. His eyes fall shut, and he licks his lips before sliding them across the tip. Alistair groans and thrusts upward into the touch.

“I’ve nearly forgotten how much you loved to have your cock sucked,” he teases, and Alistair curses at him.

How often does Hiro suck him off? Can he even get half of Alistair’s cock inside his mouth? Robert moans as he slides his tongue up the shaft, reveling in how the younger man trembles beneath him. Surely, no fourteen year-old child could suck dick better than an experienced man. Robert feels his chest swell, jealous—competitive, even—and, not because of how Hiro has touched Tadashi; rather, for all the times Hiro has touched Alistair, made him crumble under his manipulative, sadistic touch.

Right now, Alistair isn’t thinking of Hiro, at all; rather, he’s taken back to all those times when they’d come home from a hard day and gravitate toward each other. He remembers the way Robert moved his tongue and is grateful that hasn’t changed.

Hamada doesn’t deserve this, he thinks. Doesn’t deserve Robert. There’s nothing Hamada has done in his entire life that would warrant this kind of reward. An inexperienced little fag, flashing his innocence and beautiful body; of course Robert would go for that. Anyone would. But, does Hamada know what Robert acts like in bed with someone he loves? He probably hasn’t appreciated it, if Robert showed him any true adoration. He can’t appreciate it like Alistair does. 

Hamada has never lived with Robert. He hasn’t comforted Robert when the man’s father died, or when he lost his first job. He hasn’t seen Robert laugh, carelessly, on a summer day, head thrown back, looking like a goddamn dream. 

Alistair’s heart aches. He throws his forearm over his eyes and bites his lip. 

“You’re the same,” he heaves out. “You do the same things.”

He didn’t think it would be this comforting. Alistair always thought that, if they rekindled anything, it would be cold. Aged. But, he can’t stop the way his heart is beating. He can’t calm himself down. When he comes, it’s because he knows Robert won’t mind. In fact, he’ll enjoy it, and worship Alistair’s body until he relaxes from the high. Alistair can’t hide the tears, although there aren’t very many. 

Robert exhales and takes a moment to savor the taste of Alistair on his lips, his tongue. This doesn’t seem real. Alistair Krei is back in his bed, coaxing him into another succession of messy kisses and panting against his neck as he proclaims how much he’s missed him. That sheer sentimentality pushes at Robert and reminds him of everything that was so genuine about Alistair. So many things he’s forgotten over the years—either by mistake, or because he simply had to forget in order to move forward.

“Here I thought you just wanted an easy fuck,” Robert mocks, allowing himself to be propped against the pillows. Alistair straddles him, pushes his legs apart and ruts against him, nearly violent. “Then again, you always were so insatiable.”

They both laugh—and, Christ, it’s nice to hear that laugh from Alistair. Lighthearted, sincere. Robert places a hand behind his neck and guides his lips back against his own. It’s a deeper kiss, this time. Teeth. There’s a particular groan Alistair gives—low and pained—that makes Robert rut his hips right back.

“You’re getting hard again,” he comments, reaching back down between them and stroking at Alistair’s cock. It twitches under his touch. “Hm, just like I said…”

Robert’s mouth seizes Alistair’s neck. The skin there is damp with sweat but all Robert smells is that familiar, comforting cologne. There’s a few marks on his back, Robert realizes—only noticeable by real examination, but they’re defined enough. Scratch marks.

He envisions it. What it must be like, being on top of Hiro, claiming a body that small. He thinks about all the things Tadashi has told him about the boy and his profane language when it comes to sex and his experiences. It’s probably easy for Alistair to lose himself with that kind of untamable energy.

“Al… Fuck, you feel good.”

Their cocks are sliding against each other, slick with the precome dripping, mostly, from Robert. His limbs feel weak already. Robert would wonder when the last time he felt like this was, but it’s a senseless question, because he knows it has to have been with Alistair.

“I—I want you to fuck me,” Alistair tells him.

Robert groans and slides his hand up Alistair’s chest as the younger man continues to straddle him. He’s never forgotten Alistair’s beauty; but, _God_ , how he’s missed it.

“Please, Robert…”

Robert reaches beside the bed, grabbing for a condom and bottle of lube. Alistair snatches it from him and rips it open with his teeth. His expression is dark, and Robert is more than appreciative of how he slides the thin latex over his cock, slow and teasing. He gives Robert three, four strokes and a gentle squeeze, before he spreads his legs and allows the older man’s now slick fingers access.

It’s unreal. Tight. Robert watches Alistair’s expression break and feels him constrict around the pair of fingers. Robert whispers a string of familiar phrases, words Alistair hasn’t heard in years—“Relax, Al... Come on, relax,” he says—as he stretches and pushes inside. Alistair’s hips jolt, and Robert sits up, aligning their chests and sliding further inside the man.

“Touch me,” Robert tells him, voice needy. “Al... God, touch me.”

Alistair does. He places his hand over his cock, groaning when it twitches. There’s a laugh, a comment about how big he is, and Robert thinks how unsatisfactory it must feel to touch Hiro, knowing the boy would never fuck him. Christ. How many times has Alistair forced himself to be with women? How often did he finish, feeling dissatisfied and guilty? Maemi was probably as insatiable as Hiro. Was it worth it, to Alistair, just to continue allowing others, himself, to think he was straight?

“How long has it been, huh?” he breathes out against Alistair’s ear. He smirks and pushes the younger man back against the mattress, shoving his thighs apart more and urging his legs on either side of his body. “When was the last time you had a cock inside you?”

Too fucking long, Alistair thinks, but Robert’s question is meant to be dirty talk, and it strikes a memory. Alistair, nearly screaming, with Robert inconsolably arguing against him. He remembers mentions of betrayal—“ _God_ , Al, of course I’m not suing you!”—and, he remembers being fucked so hard he felt it for a week, with a wave of regret following every twinge of physical pain. 

Alistair looks into Robert’s eyes. He could never resist Robert with those gorgeous eyes. His breath is short, and his free hand moves up to trace Robert’s face. The crevice of new, unfamiliar wrinkles only pains Alistair because of the indication of time.

“You,” he says. “You were the last time, Robert.”

Alistair rips Robert’s hand away and settles both of his arms around Robert’s neck. It takes some familiar muscle memory, but his breath catches feeling Robert breach him. From there, it’s a stretch and burn he didn’t think he’d ever feel again. 

“Fuck… _Nngh_ , Robert—fuck.”

Robert keeps telling him to relax in a strained voice, but he’s forgotten how. It’s too good. Eventually, Alistair fits Robert fully inside of him, and it’s so impossibly deep that he can’t breathe. He can’t think. He just falls forward, afraid to move, feeling Robert throb inside him. He never thought he’d feel this ever again. He never thought—

“—I missed you so much,” he says. “I missed this, Robert.”

Alistair begs the same. Makes all the same noises, gasps, whines. Robert pulls in his lips and feels his cock throb as he stays positioned inside Alistair, not moving. The younger man constricts around him, and Robert swears he could come, right here and now, just from watching how Alistair pants beneath him.

“Missed… Missed you, too,” he whispers before leaning down to kiss him.

His chest rises, and he starts moving. Robert pulls out of Alistair as quickly as he slams back inside him. Alistair groans and arches his back, begging for more, and Robert complies. He throws Alistair’s legs over his shoulders to steady his position, and it’s so goddamn easy to fall back into the rhythm he knows Alistair adores.

“Al…”

Alistair is so incredibly beautiful like this, Robert thinks. The world is so used to seeing Alistair Krei as prim and proper, well-dressed in fine-pressed suits and slicked back hair. So few know this Alistair; the one with unkempt hair and sweat glistening his forehead. The one who begs for cock and proclaims how goddamn good it feels to be fucked.

Robert slides a hand up Alistair’s thigh, teasing the skin there before he wraps his palm around the man’s leaking cock and stroking it in time with his thrusts.

“Feel incredible, Al,” he tells him. “So fuckin’ good. Fuck, I missed you.”

Robert still knows everything about him. They used to do this every night, just learning about one another. It was beautiful and perfect, all the time, and that’s all Alistair can seem to remember. Not the pain. Not the heartbreak. Just _them_ when they’re at their absolute best.

Silently, Alistair gasps, and the pleasure hits right at the base of his spine. It washes over him, over and over, and he feels a build-up of pressure in his lower stomach. His fingers grasp in Robert’s hair, tugging desperately. He needs more—holy _fuck,_ he needs more.

“Harder,” he begs. “Come on. Harder, Robert.”

Robert groans and thrusts so far into Alistair that he feels both their muscles nearly giving out. Alistair’s thighs go tense and, in that instant, they both reach their limit. Robert’s come coats the inside of the condom, hot against his cock, but he keeps going, reveling in the aftershocks of his orgasm and watching Alistair pant beneath him, stomach covered by his own release.

The man looks absolutely dazed. Fucked into blissful oblivion. Christ, he’s got this string of drool falling from the corner of his mouth. He’s looked worse, Robert reminds himself. They’ve finished, bruised and bleeding and crying. They’ve finished, not wanting to even look at each other or touch the other further.

Not now.

Robert gives a sharp exhale as he pulls out of Alistair. He tears the condom off and throws it in the trash. When he collapses on the bed next to the man, he’s comforted by the silence between them. He’s glad Alistair isn’t determined to fill the air with conversation, with excuses. Instead, he pulls Robert closer and breathes against him.

“I’m glad you don’t regret it,” Robert whispers; “because I don’t, either.”

Robert is used to an empty bed. In many ways, it’s become preferable over the years. But, whenever he feels the warmth of another body next to his, he remembers all the comfort that comes with being this close to someone. Even when that someone has been Tadashi, whose nights at the loft had, although sparse, felt intimate.

In a lot of ways, it’s been easy to allow himself to forget the emotional aspect of sex. He craves it with Tadashi. Sometimes, he would do anything in the universe just to feel it. But, he never allows himself. Even still, it might’ve been worth it. It’s not like Robert prevented himself from getting hurt. He’s been stupid, careless with Tadashi. As much as he wishes he were smarter, there’s no denying that some part of him still wishes Tadashi would ask for more, instead of all the less he’s been insinuating, lately.

“I can’t believe how normal this feels,” Alistair comments, quietly. Robert kisses the man’s forehead and begins to rub at his back. “I feel like I’m twenty-five again.”

He’d give a lot to rewind time. He’d do this all again—even the pain—so that maybe, on a second take, they’d get it right.

“You still like your eggs over easy?” Robert teases; and, when Alistair furrows his brow, he laughs. “Just asking. You know, for reference.”

Alistair starts to laugh, and it’s almost nervous. He’s been so preoccupied with not going back to the penthouse, tonight, that he’s barely even thought about tomorrow morning. Breakfast? _God_ , the thought makes his heart stutter. He forgot what it was like to feel like this: The afterglow, the peace, the easy anticipation of the next morning. Hiro never gives him that. Sure, the boy presses close and demands to be embraced, but there’s always—always—something perverted about it. Alistair remains too painfully aware of how small that body is against him.

“Christ, Robert, I’m sorry,” he whispers, repeating his words from earlier. He clings to Robert, regret washing over him. He’s been so stupid. Women, men, Hiro. He feels like a fool. “I can’t expect you to ever forgive me after what I did.”

“Al,” Robert starts, rubbing at the man’s upper-arm, his back. “Let’s—not talk about all that, okay? It’s in the past.”

Easier said than done, he thinks. Right now, it’s almost impossible to imagine the man lying next to him is the one who hurt him, nearly destroyed him. It took years to get over. About three different medications to get him to sleep at night and not overwhelm himself with the pain and betrayal. Robert watched the man build Krei Tech from nothing, taking forgotten inventions Robert put years crafting and using them to sell his name to investors. Alistair stole practically everything from Robert, literally and figuratively.

But, right now, it’s not important.

“What are you going to do about Hiro?” he asks.

Alistair inhales and, for a second, Robert almost regrets asking. But, when Alistair rolls back against the pillows, appearing pensive, Robert knows it’s a question he’s already asking himself.

It’s considerably easier, for Robert. His relationship with Tadashi has already changed, but Robert knows they’re both capable of amiability. It’ll be hard, of course. Awkward. He’s still the young man’s advisor, after all. Awkwardness can be soothed, though, and he’d never let his personal feelings get in the way of helping Tadashi succeed as an inventor.

“I have no goddamn clue,” Alistair eventually says. “I already told myself it was over, but… Fuck, when I saw them together, I just—”

Alistair genuinely didn’t want to think about Hiro until the next time he saw him. He supposes he’s been thinking about him this whole time, hasn’t he? Figures. That boy has a visceral grip on his mind, always. It’s a hard habit to break.

“Well, Tadashi is leaving soon,” Robert reminds him—as though, perhaps, that might be comforting. He knows it’s not. Whether or not Tadashi is in town doesn’t change the damage done. “He has to go back home during the summer.”

“How do you feel about that?” Alistair asks, and Robert catches the resentment.

“It—doesn’t change a lot,” he tries to reason. “We both always knew he’d have to go back home.”

Frankly, it’ll be easier without having to think about what Tadashi is doing every second of the day. Back home, Tadashi will be so preoccupied with helping his aunt on the farm that he’ll have no time to seek out other men. But… Will Tadashi stay in touch with Hiro, over the summer? Will Alistair even allow that?

“We’re pretty pathetic, aren’t we?” Robert then says, nearly laughing. “A couple of old fags, getting caught up in children. I swore I’d never be one of those, but here I am.”

Alistair closes his eyes. They’re sad, miserable faggots who are in love with a younger generation. A life they could never live. 

“Can we forget about them for a while?” he asks, moving back against Robert’s chest. “I want to just—enjoy this, right now.”

He blinks, and sees a younger couple. Two men, hand in hand, trying to hide it as they walked along the San Fransokyo bridge. He remembers the way Robert looked at him, then: Love, adoration and exactly what Alistair wanted. 

“I’d like that,” Robert agrees. He stretches his arm and pulls at the lamp on the nightstand. “This feels nice, Al.”

_It feels right._

They welcome the darkness in the room. Robert doesn’t need to see the body on him to recognize its touch, its comfort. He’s not pretending it’s anyone else, tonight. There’s the tragedy of the past, but all he feels is the the present when he concentrates on Alistair’s warmth. Robert thinks he could live in this moment forever.

Come morning, neither of them can hide from reality. Life will go on as normal, and they’ll either pretend this never happened or deal with the consequences of something much greater.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Robert grabs Alistair’s hand and kisses it, whispering old sentiments only heard by him.

* * *

When Alistair opens his eyes, he's alone.

The room looks starkly different than it did, last night. Sun is filtering through the blinds, and it's probably much earlier in the morning than it seems, because Alistair feels beyond rested. That was the best night's sleep he's had in weeks.

He laments not waking up by Robert's side. He supposes, perhaps, that’d be too much. It all feels like a blur, now, although he remembers most of it. Robert's hands on his skin. Robert's lips on his neck. Robert's cock inside him, stretching him open in a way he thought he’d never feel again.

Alistair sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. He might as well get dressed. It’s seven o’clock, and he still has plenty of time to stop by the penthouse to change, but he’s not certain he even has the energy to go into the office, today.

As he wanders into the kitchen, buttoning his shirt, he sees Robert standing by the stove. He's making toast and eggs. Quietly, for just a few minutes, Alistair watches him from the doorway. Just watches. Robert is focused, yet airy, and there's something in his step that indicates he's happy. Alistair catches himself smiling, wistfully. 

“I never thought I'd see this again,” he finally greets, and his tone is sheepish.

Robert has a set of plates in his hands when he turns. He won’t admit that he’s spent the morning, pretending this has been the norm for the past two decades. Still, it’s that very fantasy that helps him feel more at ease as he walks up to the younger man and runs his hands through his hair.

“Morning,” he breathes out. “You looked too peaceful. I couldn’t wake you up.”

Alistair makes a thoughtful noise.

“Over easy,” he then says, moving away. He gestures toward the eggs. “You might not like how I cook them, after all these years. I imagine you have a personal chef, or something fancy like that.”

“No,” Alistair admits. “No chef. I prefer to cook, for myself.”

And, for Hiro. Alistair closes his eyes and tries to breathe evenly. Hiro, who often finds any excuse to judge his food and complain about the taste. It feels horrendously ironic that he’s been putting up with that when, in some alternate universe, he could’ve had _this_ domesticity with Robert.

Robert gives him a curious look as he moves back toward the stove and switches it off. Alistair takes a seat at the table, where the coffee percolator is already situated at the center. He helps himself to pouring a cup.

“I don’t have class today,” Robert informs him. He can sense Alistair’s curiosity. “I did intend to stop by campus a little later, though. Tomorrow is the last two finals for my classes.”

Including his robotics class with Tadashi.

Just thinking about Tadashi develops a strange twinge in his body. Foolishly, as he joins Alistair at the table with the table, he feels as though he’s been unfaithful. But, that’s a ridiculous notion.

“I hate to ask,” Robert continues; “but, I don’t suppose you’ve heard from—your son? Tadashi hasn’t texted me. Then again, he hasn’t in a few days, so…”

Alistair watches Robert disperse the food. “I haven’t looked at my phone,” Alistair admits and, truthfully, he has no desire to check it. “I can’t.”

Because, by now, it’s one of two options: No word from his son, or, more painfully, a snide, cutting remark that suggests Hiro would prefer him not to return. What if Tadashi is back over? What if, when Alistair finally returns, the man is still there—again?

“I failed to mention my little spat with your twink,” Alistair remarks, blandly. “He’s pretty spineless.”

Robert stops drinking his coffee, mid-sip. He sets down his cup and meets Alistair’s eyes with unease. It’s not guilt that proceeds to flicker through Alistair. If Alistair had his way, it wouldn’t have stopped there; those images that flashed through his mind, earlier last night, are still very present. 

“What kind of spat?” Robert asks, timidly. “Is Tadashi all right?”

“He’s fine,” Alistair says, even though he's not really sure about that. “A swollen lip, I’m sure.”

Robert narrows his eyes, critical. “Alistair…”

“He was in my penthouse,” he defends; "and, frankly, I don't want him around Hiro. It's not like you want them together, either.”

“Well, no.” Robert accompanies the statement with a rather displeased look. “Your son hasn’t exactly been the best influence on Tadashi.”

Blackmail and unsafe sex being very high on the list. Robert may have learned a thing or two about Alistair’s stepson, but he’s not convinced he feels any particular string of sympathy for the boy. He still doesn’t know what that child is capable of doing.

“Let’s not forget he tried to manipulate Tadashi to signing off Baymax,” Robert reminds him; “which, by the way, I assume was all your idea.”

“Somewhat,” Alistair acknowledges.

They begin eating and, for a while, it’s quiet. Alistair still drinks his coffee black. Robert still adds two additional sugars when his cup is half-empty.

“They’re going to want to keep in touch over the summer,” the older man then says. It doesn’t make either of them feel any better, but it has to be stated. “Tadashi might even—want to visit.”

“He will not see Hiro over the summer. I refuse to let that happen.”

Robert gives him a grim, almost judgmental look, and Alistair is slowly starting to remember how easily the older man would grow perturbed of his negative attitude.

“Look,” Alistair says, earnestly; “I don't mean to upset you. But, Hiro is unpredictable. Who’s to say what he has planned?”

“Well, Tadashi is responsible for himself,” Robert replies. He peels the crust off his toast. “So, if Hiro breaks his heart—like I expect he will—then, Tadashi can’t say I didn’t warn him.”

Alistair wants to be offended by that statement. He doesn’t know whether it’s attributed to a bizarre parental instinct or his own complicated feelings; but, he murmurs some sort of agreement and wonders, distantly, if it’s even fair to resent how Robert speaks about his son.

“And, what about us?” Alistair asks. “Robert, is this—a thing, now? Are we doing something, here, or was it just one night?”

Robert swallows. There’s a tear at his heart when he speaks. “I can’t answer that, for you,” he says, honestly. “Things are complicated, Al. It’s not as though you’re in a position to come out—and, that’s not me pushing, Al. I promise. It’s just… People will know.”

Robert’s sexuality has been common knowledge for years, now. He’s attached his names to plenty of organizations and openly donated to charities, and he hasn’t been subtle in statements regarding his career and life. But, as successful as he’s been, he’s not Alistair Krei. He’s just some everyday professor who stared at enough mathematical properties to develop a variant in robotic programming.

“Maybe I don’t care about that,” Alistair rushes out.

“But, you do,” Robert replies, and he places down his fork. He’s barely finished breakfast, but he thinks he may have lost his appetite, now. “You have to care, Al. Don’t do this, right now. It’s—there’s a lot to consider, all right? Let’s just… slow down before you agree to something you’ll regret.”

Alistair's eyes flicker away. He regrets a lot of things, and being with Robert was perhaps the only thing he ever knew was good, for him. To open up entirely to someone was beyond anything Alistair had ever experienced. It's not like Maemi did anything more than ask for his credit card. It’s not like Hiro has ever wanted deep, meaningful conversations.

But, Robert is right: There’s so much to think about, and everything is different, now. Alistair is not the man Robert knew, back then. Alistair can never reveal every part of himself. Robert doesn't know the specifics of rough, demanding sex with Hiro, or the black market deals he once made to keep his company afloat, or—

—or, what he did to Maemi.

His darkest secret shouldn't be hidden from his partner. He could never tell Robert that, and not just because of the legal consequences.

Right now, they’re amicable. They’re in a good place. Yes, last night they revisited an intimacy so very buried; but, perhaps, that’s all it was intended.

“I apologize,” he murmurs. “Let’s just focus on today, yeah? Since you don’t have class, why don’t we do something? Go—somewhere, perhaps?”

He can forget about Krei Tech, for one day. It’s not as though he doesn’t deserve to play hooky, and the easy discussion of plans has both Robert and Alistair remembering when their mornings developed into this particular routine.

“I’d like that,” Robert agrees, smiling; “although, I doubt you know of any cheap hobbies, these days.”

Alistair manages a laugh. “Don’t worry,” he assures. “My treat.”


	10. Chapter 10

Slumped against the couch, Hiro rereads last night’s string of text messages from Tadashi. He made it back to the dorm, safe and sound. He slept well enough and, as evidenced by this morning’s photo, his lip is only slightly swollen. Probably not even enough for his classmates to ask questions.

Hiro filled Tadashi in on Alistair’s disappearance, which seems to have relieved Tadashi of his melodramatic worry. Now, Tadashi is off taking his mathematics final, and Hiro still hasn’t heard from Alistair. He figures his dad probably spent the night at a hotel. In the unlikely—but, at this point, totally convenient—event of the man’s death, he’s certain Gogo would’ve contacted him, by now. Hiro has a distinct feeling he won’t be seeing his father again, tonight.

He’s going to avoid Hiro for as long as possible. Maybe until Tadashi is out of town.

Hiro sinks further into the couch and stares at the clock. It’s five in the afternoon. He grabs his phone and half-considers texting his father; but, instead, he navigates back to his chat with Tadashi.

> he still isn’t home lol  
>  Sent at 5:12 p.m.

> come over after ur final? we can celebrate ;)  
>  Sent at 5:13 p.m.

Ten minutes later, Tadashi responds with enthusiasm. He’s done with his exam and grabbing some coffee. Hiro is a little surprised the man isn’t concerned about whether Alistair is on his way home, but he supposes some part of Tadashi might _want_ to have another run-in with him. Hiro can’t decide how he feels about that.

It takes another thirty minutes for Tadashi to show up—mostly because he refuses Hiro’s offer of having a driver pick him up from campus—but, when he finally does arrive, Hiro is feeling impatient, moody.

“It’s rude to keep someone waiting,” Hiro tells him, upon opening the door. “You should apologize.”

Tadashi’s puffy lip curls into a smile. “Hello, to you, too,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “I thought there would be streamers, balloons. Doesn’t feel like much of a celebration in here.”

“That’s not how I celebrate successes,” Hiro tells him. He reaches up and pulls off Tadashi’s jacket. Then, he grabs the man’s chin. He inspects his bruise but is quick to make his intentions known. “I prefer fucking, Tadashi. And, lots of it.”

Hiro’s small body is pressing close. He’s warm, and he’s batting his eyelashes, and Tadashi can feel his thighs rubbing against his own, tempting him. It’s incredible how quickly Hiro can start playing his game of seduction. Tadashi has spent most of the past twenty-four hours thinking about the boy under him, calling out his name. He knows Hiro has been alone and probably really needs an outlet for his frustrations. But, he also needs to unwind, relax. And, frankly, so does Tadashi.

Carefully, Tadashi pulls away. “Maybe we ought to start with some champagne,” he muses, still smirking. “Think your dad will care if we crack open one of those bottles?”

Hiro’s curious gaze follows Tadashi’s gesture toward the nook above the wine cooler. There’s about a dozen bottles of champagne resting on the rack, along with several wine bottles that have been chosen not to be stored.

“Encouraging me to drink, I see,” Hiro teases, but he’s already sauntering over to the kitchen. “Did you think I was a cute drunk at the expo, ‘Dashi?”

“I don’t think you were necessarily _drunk_ ,” Tadashi reasons; “but, you were cute.”

Hiro giggles and murmurs something—“Of course I was,” he says—as he stares up at the wine rack. He has to climb onto the counter so he can reach the alcohol. His delicate little body displays all the charms of a child as he reaches up, blindly pulling out a bottle of champagne. Tadashi is quick to grab it out of his hands and help him down from the counter.

Hiro grabs the bottle back and starts to twist open the cage. “What are _you_ like when you’re drunk?” he wonders. “You definitely weren’t even tipsy when we met. Maybe you’re angry drunk… Should I be worried?”

He snickers as he leans the bottle away from his body and starts to loosen the cork. It pops open, loud as ever, and the cloudy mist dissipates when Hiro wanders over to the cabinet to fetch two glasses. He’s not going to bother with champagne flutes. They never hold enough alcohol, anyway.

“I’ve never been drunk,” Tadashi admits. “I mean, I’ve had, like, three glasses of wine with Robert, but I usually just get really sleepy.”

It’s a different kind of sleepy than the normal exhaustion, though. Wine is relaxing, and Tadashi understands why there are so many exaggerations about housewives using a glass of red wine to fall asleep. Robert has often teased him for how easily he starts to zone out after one glass. When it came time to decide whether he was going back to the dorms, or spending the night at Robert’s, it certainly always made him more complacent to follow his professor home.

Tadashi misses those early weeks of their relationship. He misses the butterflies in his stomach.

“Cheers?” Hiro offers, holding up his glass. Tadashi is hesitant, for a moment. But, eventually, their glasses clink together, and they situate themselves back in the living room. “So, what do you want to do? We could order in, or watch a movie, or just fuck. Up to you, ‘Dashi.”

Hiro’s lips extend into a mischievous smirk as he curls his feet onto the couch and taps his toes against Tadashi’s thigh. The man takes another swig of the champagne. Then, another. He looks pensive. Distracted.

“I really don’t think he’s coming home,” Hiro reassures him.

Tadashi stares into his champagne, watching as it fizzes. “It’s not that,” Tadashi admits. “I just—I don’t know. I’m kind of thinking about Robert, right now.”

“Oh…” There’s a strange twist in Hiro’s stomach. “You mean, like, what he’s doing? Or, like, his class? You could probably just not show up to the final, and he’d still pass you. He has to know you have a shit ton of blackmail on him.”

“God, no, I would never do something like that.”

Tadashi feels horrified, just thinking about it. They may not be on the best terms, right now, but threatening to expose his relationship with Robert takes a type of cruelty Tadashi knows he doesn’t possess. Tadashi cares about Robert. He wants the best, for him. Hiro has probably used that exact type of threat against his father—and, while Tadashi wants to revel in that notion, it’s disturbing, too.

“I’m going to take the final,” Tadashi tells him. “I know how Robert tests, and it’ll be fine.”

“Well,” Hiro continues, pointedly; “I’m just saying, on the off chance you do flunk it, I’m sure sucking his dick would remedy it.”

Sex and blackmail. The juxtaposition between those intricate concepts is so intertwined, for Hiro. Tadashi wonders if yesterday’s admission about Hiro’s ulterior motive was the first time he ever confessed any sort of misdeed. How often does Hiro differentiate between right and wrong?

“You don’t really want me to suck his dick, do you?” the older man asks, puzzled.

Hiro shrugs. “I don’t know,” he replies. “You seemed really into his dick.”

“I, uh—I guess.” Tadashi feels his complexion turn. “I mean, he’s an attractive guy. It’s not like the sex was bad, or anything.”

“Right,” Hiro murmurs with a roll of his eyes. “I bet it’s better, for him, though. Like, you can do better. He can’t. You’re the hottest piece of ass he’s probably had in, like, the last five millenniums.”

Tadashi notes the jealousy in the boy’s tone and frowns. Hiro is attempting to hide the scowl behind his half-empty glass of champagne.

“Do you think—he’s love with you?”

The question, Tadashi decides, probably comes from the quick consumption of alcohol. Hiro isn’t slurring, but he sounds faraway. It’s the exact opposite of the sly conversation and bedroom eyes Hiro gave him, back when they met. Tadashi suspects there’s far more on Hiro’s mind than he’s been willing to admit.

“I don’t know,” Tadashi decides to say. “I guess it’s possible.”

It wouldn’t scare him. Not any more than Robert’s recent behavior. But, even if the relationship could work, the bigger issue would be loving him back. Tadashi isn’t sure he could, and he feels guilty about that. Robert deserves better than an indecisive college kid, especially after being so beaten down by his relationship with Alistair Krei.

“I sort of get the feeling Robert hasn’t opened his heart up since—you know.”

Hiro gives a dramatic groan and practically curls up into a ball on the couch. “Don’t remind me,” he complains. “God. What if they’re both so pissed, at us, that they get back together? What if they are fucking, right now? What if Callaghan becomes, like, my fucking stepdad, and they tote me around like we’re some big happy family? That has to be child abuse, right? I’d kill myself. That’d be a shit ton worse than anything my mom ever put me through. Fuck.”

Tadashi hears a panic in Hiro’s voice that reminds him of yesterday, when the boy was trying to intervene. He reaches out and wraps an arm around the boy, pulling him closer.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he assures. “That’s not going to happen. Robert would never take him back, anyway.”

Hiro isn’t convinced, and he’s suddenly very curious if his father would answer the phone, if he were to call. What if it was an emergency? How would Alistair find out? Does he have someone still keeping tabs on Hiro? Or, does he really not care anymore? Hiro’s heart beats faster, and he feels it in his stomach.

He wishes Alistair would walk in on them, right now. At least seeing his reaction would verify whether or not he still cares about Hiro. Maybe if Hiro better understood Alistair’s feelings, for him, he’d be able to decipher his own. 

But, it’s strange. Hiro never thought he needed any sort of validation. But, in just a week, Tadashi is going to be gone, and he has no idea what being with Alistair all summer will be like, what it will mean. Will he continue to avoid Hiro for weeks on end? Will Hiro be—alone?

Tadashi catches the faraway look on Hiro and the way his mouth is turned downward. Tadashi leans over and kisses Hiro’s head, softly and calmly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Hiro settles against Tadashi’s body. Even sitting down, the room is starting to spin. He doesn’t remember the champagne at the expo getting, to him, this quickly. Then again, he had eaten dinner before then. He hasn’t done anything today besides wait around for—

_—for anyone._

“This summer,” Hiro admits. He finishes off his champagne. “You, leaving. My dad, probably avoiding me until the end of time.”

“Hey,” Tadashi says, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him closer; “I’m going to be back in the fall, okay? It’s just a few months. And, look, you know I’m no fan of your father, but he’s not going to do that.”

“How do _you_ know?”

“Well, okay, I don’t, but—come on, Hiro, even I see it.”

“See what?” Hiro presses. “He doesn’t care. He’s done with me.”

“I saw how he looked at you,” Tadashi tells him, restrained. “He cares. Hell, it’s probably a lot more than that, and—you can’t get rid of that in a week.”

Hiro pulls away from Tadashi and stares at him. “What are you talking about?” he asks, frowning.

“I don’t know,” Tadashi starts, awkwardly. “Forget it.”

But, the insinuation is there, and Hiro balks. It feels accusatory. 

“He’s not in love with me, if that’s what you’re saying,” he laughs out, shifting against the couch. “Your professor is in love with _you._ Don’t turn this little love debate around on me, bucko.”

“I’m not trying to,” Tadashi says, and he gives a sad smile. “It’s just—I don’t know. Maybe I am projecting my fucked up relationship with Robert onto yours… Sorry.”

Hiro feels dizzier than ever, now. He stares forward and thinks about all the times he’s sat on this very couch with his father, listening about the man’s day at the office and, more often than not, climbing into his lap with an insinuation so clear that Alistair never had to question it.

Yes, there’s always been something in his father’s eyes. Ever present, never fading, but—

_—it can’t be love._

Alistair Krei doesn’t fall in love with people. It’s not as though he loved Robert Callaghan—

_—right?_

The room is definitely spinning. Hiro closes his eyes and, abruptly, starts to laugh.

“Imagine!” Hiro blurts out. “God. He couldn’t even love my mom. I mean, _okay_ , I know that’s because he’s a fag, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t care about her a little bit, you know? But, he didn’t. Neither of us did. _God_ , she was a bitch.”

Tadashi calls out the boy’s name. It’s gentle, careful, and Tadashi’s hand starts to rub at his back. Hiro shakes his head as though he’s in disbelief of his own memories.

“I’m, like, ninety percent certain she knew I was fucking Alistair, and she never bothered to consider that, maybe, I wasn’t a willing participant,” he continues. “Which—like, _yeah_ , I was, and I loved it, but you know that, and I just—I don’t know. My dad definitely did not care as much as he should’ve for a normal human being, when I told him I wanted to get rid of my mom, and that’s, like, easily the most fucked up thing about the two us.”

The words spill from his mouth before he even has a chance to collect his thoughts, or realize exactly what he’s suggesting. Instead, there’s another laugh, a cackle, and he looks over at Tadashi with misplaced humor. 

“Consider yourself lucky for getting the hell out of here, for the summer,” Hiro says. “At least you can escape and pretend life is hunky-dory.”

It’s quiet, afterward. Tadashi spine is cold, and his grip is so tight on the glass that he’s afraid he might break it. Even after the words and implications process, Tadashi doesn’t have the courage to speak. The universe around him feels entirely off kilter, now.

_Get rid._

And, it falls into place faster than it should. 

_Get rid. Get rid. Get rid._

Tadashi knows, firsthand, about a parent dying. He lost _both_ his mother and father when he was still in grade school. To him, hearing about someone’s else’s parental loss had almost become _normal_.

But, this isn’t normal. When has _anything_ ever been normal between Hiro and his father? Tadashi should’ve fucking _suspected_ the moment he figured out the two’s relationship. _But, no_. He continued to be blind. 

Maybe, subconsciously, that had been his own intention. 

“Hiro…” Tadashi calls out, and his throat feels dry; “did you—are you—?”

This is dangerous territory. Off limits. Hiro hears his father’s warnings in his head—over and over—but, he doesn’t have the same inhibitions to _stay silent._ He wants to say it.

“I hired someone,” Hiro begins. “This guy, downtown. One of the yakuza leaders. He followed my mom to some stupid upscale bar, and she was meeting a bunch of her friends, and he put something in her drink. Caused her heart to stop. It didn’t show up in the toxicology test, but I don’t know how, and it looked like a heart attack.”

He thinks about when Alistair got the phone call. He watched the man’s expression, carefully, searching for any genuine emotion. There was none. He hung up the phone, said he had to go to the hospital because it would look normal, and he insisted Hiro stay home. The next morning, the funeral arrangements were being made. A private ceremony. Barely one, at all, Hiro thinks.

“She was never in stellar health to begin with, and her life insurance policy was a joke, so it didn’t raise a lot of questions,” Hiro then adds, setting down his glass on the table. “But, that was it. We barely got our hands dirty. Paid the guy six figures, and it was done. Two days later, I moved into my dad’s bedroom.”

That was that. Her face circulated on the news and tabloids for a few weeks before the world forgot Maemi Takachiho. Stories about Alistair Krei became less about his life as a widower and more about his life as a single father. Hiro had no complaints. There’s still that spark of pride whenever he makes it on the cover of those trashy magazines with his father, because that’s how it was supposed to be: Just the two of them.

It was their agreement.

Hiro closes his eyes. “Are you going to call the police?”

“I—Hiro, I’m—” he chokes out. Tadashi’s heart pounds, and his head spins, and he can’t believe how drunk he feels, both from the alcohol and the rush of emotions. “Do you—want me to?”

“I don’t know.”

Hiro doesn’t look like a murderer, and he knows most anyone would agree. If properly timed, Hiro can exude innocence. Hiro is all small limbs and tiny hands, coupled with a pouty lip and messy, messy hair.

But, this boy paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to kill his own mother. And, he just admitted it, to Tadashi, the way any other child would own up to a bad grade on a math test.

“Why did you tell me?” he asks, gently, as he places a hand on the boy’s thigh.

Hiro shrugs against the couch. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “Maybe I figured you ought to know since, like, I’m a murderer, or something. Conspiracy to commit murder murderer. I don’t know.”

Tadashi doesn’t want to ask the next question. Not really. But, he’s closing his eyes and exhaling and finding the strength to say it.

“Was it really your idea?”

Coldly, carefully, Hiro lets out a laugh. “Oh, was it,” he murmurs. It’s not like it’s going to change Tadashi’s opinion of Alistair, but he figures it’s worth explaining. “Back then, I never really told my dad everything about what she did, to me, but… I told him enough. I don’t think he would’ve gone through with it, if he hadn’t known.”

Tadashi isn’t comforted by that statement. There’s a layer of manipulation— _of course_ —surrounding Hiro’s ability to twist his own tragedy to his advantage. But, that’s not his fault, Tadashi reminds himself. Hiro is a victim. He doesn’t _understand_. His father should’ve understood. Instead, Alistair Krei saw the plan as yet another opportunity to get what _he_ wanted.

“Do you miss her?” Tadashi decides to ask. He watches Hiro’s expression stay stoic. “I know she wasn’t good, to you, but do you ever—?”

“No,” Hiro interrupts. “I mean, I think about her; but, I don’t miss her. I just tend to think about what she would’ve thought about all this, or whatever. The other day, I was wondering what she would’ve thought of you. She probably would’ve liked you, us. But, she also probably would’ve tried to fuck you, _so_.”

That causes Tadashi to smile, albeit cautiously. “Yeah, right,” he says. “Your dad might still be trying to be straight, but I’d rather die.”

They can bond over that, at least. Hiro gives him a look of agreement, and his lips quirk up in a smile. It’s the best they can do, right now.

After a final swig of his champagne, he places down his glass beside Hiro’s and studies the younger boy. They’re drunk enough that their filter is gone, but they’re still going to remember all of this very clearly.

“We should shower,” Tadashi offers. “Sober up a bit.”

Hiro raises a brow. “You sure you can stand?” he teases, but he grabs at Tadashi’s hand and helps both of them get to their feet. “You can spend the night, if you want, you know…”

Hiro leads Tadashi upstairs, explaining that, despite having four bathrooms, the one upstairs in the hall is his favorite. It’s larger than the one in Alistair’s bedroom, and the shower has better pressure. Tadashi asks about the upkeep and doesn’t seem too surprised when Hiro explains the maid comes six times a week.

The bathroom is pristine, as usual. The white cabinets and tiles look untouched, and the undermount sink is dry and free of blemishes. Hiro reaches into the alcove to turn on the two-head shower, laughing when he catches just how mesmerized Tadashi looks by the slanted ceiling and bright lights.

“I’ve never even stayed at hotels with bathrooms this nice,” he admits. He looks over at Hiro, who is already stripping off his clothes. “How do you even use public restrooms?”

“I’m not _that_ stuck-up,” Hiro defends, sliding off his tight briefs and running his hand under the hot water. “Hurry up and take off your clothes, you dork.”

He does, and Hiro stares with appreciation. Tadashi feels a drunken surge of pride by how Hiro’s eyes scan his body. He thought, perhaps, he’d feel intimidated showering with someone—mostly because Robert has never offered—but, as the bathroom starts to fog, Tadashi relaxes.

Hiro steps inside, first; and, in an instant, his small body is soaked underneath the two showerheads. Tadashi follows, shivering under the hot water before he takes Hiro’s face into his hands and kisses him, hard. Hiro looks beautiful.

“You’re gonna be okay, you know,” Tadashi promises.

Hiro raises his brow. “That’s an optimistic declaration toward someone who, one day, very well may face the death penalty,” he drones.

“That’s not—” Tadashi stops himself and, instead, starts to run his fingers through Hiro’s wet hair. “Can I wash your hair?”

Hiro hums, thoughtfully, and reaches for the shampoo.

“Geez,” Tadashi notes, staring at the overpriced brand before he starts to massage a healthy dollop into Hiro’s hair. “Has your dad ever heard of Suave?”

Hiro’s hair is even softer with all the foamy bubbles in it, and Tadashi plays a little, pulling the hair into little spikes. Hiro doesn’t look amused. Tadashi pokes his nose to get suds on it.

“My dad has never even had a Poptart,” Hiro tells him, and he sounds more coherent, now. He isn’t swaying back and forth, or stumbling. Mostly, he just looks sleepy. Tadashi motions for him to turn around, then starts to scrub at his back. “ _Mm_ , that feels nice.”

Tadashi smiles, softly, and wonders if his father ever does this, for him. Probably not. He imagines that, in the shower, they spend most of the time on top of one another. Has anyone ever washed Hiro’s hair? Did Maemi?

“Do you remember your dad?” he asks. “Like, your real dad?”

“I never met him,” Hiro admits, shrugging. “My mom was only seventeen when she had me. According to her, he bailed, and she didn’t have the money for an abortion, so she had me. Found a way to make it work by manipulating men to take care of us.” 

Maemi, in all her dramatic behavior, never expanded much on what his father was like, or even his name. Hiro has never been too concerned. It’s not like he’d ever want to meet the man who abandoned him and his mother.

Hiro turns and reaches up to brush at Tadashi’s wet chest. He’s always appreciated his muscles, but there’s something more rewarding about being able to admire him, now. Fuck, he’s gorgeous. It’s strange to think Tadashi is only four years older than him; he’s so much bigger, so adult. Is Hiro going to be this tall, this broad when he’s Tadashi’s age? It seems impossible.

Four years older, and Tadashi is an adult. He’s on his own. Going to school. He’ll probably have his own place before he even finishes school. Tadashi may have rejected Krei Tech’s offer, but he’s sure to come up with other inventions, simpler ones, that he’ll have patented before he graduates. What the hell will Hiro be doing in four years? Getting kicked out of the penthouse?

“Can I ask you something?” Hiro murmurs.

Tadashi almost doesn’t hear him. “Yeah, shoot,” he says.

“Are you, like, into kids, too?” he asks. “Young boys, I mean. I just… I don’t know. I guess I don’t quite understand why you’re still hanging around with me. Especially since I was just trying to get you to sell your robot.”

Tadashi is glad he can’t see Hiro’s face. He’s sure it would break his heart, and he can’t handle much more of that. Hiro usually shows pride in regard to being able to wrangle in older men. Right now, he sounds confused. Maybe he knows, inside himself, that men using him for sex is wrong.

“I’m not here because I have a fetish,” he says, reassuringly. “I mean, I don’t think you’re that much younger than me. I’m still kind of a kid, too.”

But, he knows what Hiro means; and, while Tadashi is adamant that he’s nothing like the boy’s father, he’s aware there’s a jump in experience between the two. Sometimes, though, he thinks it’s far more likely that Hiro has experienced more than Tadashi ever will. In terms of sex, street smarts and book knowledge. Hiro often hides his genius—but, when it comes out, Tadashi is always stunned.

“I like you, Hiro,” he tells him. He rubs his hands over the boy’s shoulders, and notices they’re smaller than he remembers. “I like you a lot. You know that.”

It’s difficult to be certain, but Tadashi thinks he feels the boy exhale against his touch.

“Yeah,” Hiro murmurs. “I guess so.”

Hiro turns back around in the shower so he can face Tadashi. Their subsequent kiss is deep, slow, and Hiro moans against it. There’s something different in it, though. More emotional. Hiro feels a sense of security against Tadashi. Safe. He’s uncertain whether he’s ever felt that with Alistair. He supposes, somewhere deep down, he’s still afraid of being disposable.

“I don’t think my dad is a pedophile,” Hiro admits. “At least, I don’t know… He says he isn’t.”

Tadashi has no idea whether or not pedophiles are supposed to be exclusively attracted to children, rather than just occasionally. But, only a pedophile would be interested in children in the first place, and Tadashi can’t imagine being forty-five, still chasing down kids like Hiro.

Hiro is holding his breath. Almost like he’s worried Tadashi will confirm, for him, that his father is a shameful pervert. 

“He probably says a lot of things,” Tadashi sighs; “but, you need to listen to what professionals tell you. I think you should see a therapist, at some point.”

Hiro is offended as he reels away from Tadashi, scrutinizing him and narrowing his brows.

“It would be good, for you,” he amends. “I think you have a lot to talk about.”

“I don’t _want_ to talk about anything.”

It’s gruff, defensive. Hiro barely looks at Tadashi as he reaches over and turns off the water. They both shiver from the instant wave of cold air, but Hiro reaches for the set of white towels. He hands one to Tadashi and, silently, steps out of the tub. 

Tadashi imagines Hiro is still too unbalanced to fully understand his past, and he wonders, briefly, if some kind of therapy _would_ only further damage him. Sometimes, it’s better to let trauma be, because drudging it up only makes the memories more visceral. But, he doesn’t want to think of Hiro that way. Hiro needs someone who will listen, care.

Uneasy with the silence, Tadashi moves over to help Hiro dry his hair. The boy stares at their reflections in the mirror when he speaks.

“When do you leave?” Hiro asks. “For the summer, I mean?”

“Three days,” Tadashi answers, although it’s hollow. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want Hiro to feel alone, or forget about him. But, this can’t last forever, and they both know it. “I’m gonna miss you, you know. A lot.”

Hiro grabs the towel back and sets it on the sink. “Yeah,” he offers, and they don’t discuss it further.

Back inside Hiro’s bedroom, the boy climbs into bed, pushing aside his many pillows and making room for Tadashi. He looks even smaller on the mattress, and Tadashi makes note of how adult everything around him appears. The wallpaper, the bed sheets, the bureau. Hiro shouldn’t have all these luxury pillows on his full-sized bed. He should have comics sprawled across the mattress. Maybe a stuffed animal, too.

“It’s nice, having you here,” Hiro says as Tadashi settles beside him. “I bet I could hide you here all summer, and my dad wouldn’t notice.”

“He’d notice,” Tadashi argues; “but, don’t worry about me, Hiro. I’m not totally miserable about going home. I mean, I miss my aunt, and the country isn’t _that_ bad, after you’ve been away from it for a while. It’ll be nice to have open air.”

That admission shouldn’t hurt Hiro. It’s selfish to feel that way, because Tadashi deserves to go home and see his aunt. He deserves to spend time away from this mess and clear his head. Deep down, Hiro wants that, for him. But, he can’t help feeling as though Tadashi is more eager to run away than he’s willing to admit.

“Try not to turn straight while you’re back there,” Hiro decides to say, jokingly. It helps the strain in the atmosphere, and he curls against Tadashi’s body. He wants to be held. “I’ll try not to, like, commit another murder.”

Expectantly, Tadashi stiffens beneath him. But, seconds later, he’s bringing an arm up around Hiro’s waist and caressing his backside. He’s not going to respond to that. It’s too soon, and Tadashi still hasn’t been able to process it. He thinks, probably, it has a lot to do with denial.

“I won’t turn straight,” he assures. “Really, I don’t plan on doing anything with anyone.”

“Don’t say that,” Hiro quickly says, lifting up his head and furrowing his brow. “If some hot, hunky farmer boy wants to fuck you in a barn, I expect you to accept with full enthusiasm. I mean, as long as you give me all the details.”

Tadashi laughs. It’s awkward, but he doesn’t move away from Hiro. He pulls him closer and starts to brush through his hair. Hiro enjoys the sensation, but he’d much prefer if Tadashi were paying attention to his very naked, very heated body.

Casually, Hiro bats away the older man’s hands and moves to straddle him. Their thighs brush together, and Hiro pulls in his lips when he feels Tadashi’s flaccid cock slide against him. He starts to reach between their bodies, but Tadashi shifts.

“What?” Hiro asks, frowning.

Tadashi grabs Hiro’s hand and entwines their fingers. “We don’t have to,” he says, because it’s very obvious that Hiro thinks he’s still expected to do this, as though to appease Tadashi. “You don’t have to have sex, just because you’re with me.”

Hiro looks surprised, like he hadn’t considered that was a possibility.

“Oh,” the boys voices, confused. “Okay. Uh, that’s fine.”

“I think we should just lay here,” Tadashi urges, coaxing Hiro back beside him.

Tadashi pulls him back in, and it’s a tighter embrace, this time. More protective. Tadashi even kisses the top of his head and, while there’s a brief air of confusion and guilt, Hiro settles into him. Hiro is probably rarely rejected, and when he is, it’s probably not very loving or kind. To be invited to cuddle while falling asleep in someone’s arms is not a concept to which Hiro is familiar.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tadashi promises, feeling Hiro’s heartbeat. He pulls the covers closer around them. “This is perfect, okay?”

Hiro scoffs, but it’s half-hearted. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I like this, too.”

* * *

The next morning, much to Hiro’s horror, Tadashi gets up at seven. It’s painfully bright, and Hiro stuffs his face under the pillow as he listens to Tadashi getting dressed.

“I really think you could not show up, and Callaghan would still pass you,” Hiro grumbles. He shifts under the sheets, trying to remember the day of the week. He hasn’t seen his dad in over twenty-four hours. “You should stay here, ‘Dashi.”

Tadashi turns and catches how Hiro is admiring the last moments of his nude body. “I can’t,” he insists. “You know I gotta take that test. For myself, Hiro. I don’t want to be the kind of person who just has things handed, to them.”

Hiro pouts. “I guess I’ll let you know if my dad shows up,” he says, then yawning.

Tadashi grins and leans in, giving Hiro one last kiss before pulling his shirt over his head. It had been so relaxing to sleep with Hiro, last night. Hiro is the perfect size to spoon, and Tadashi could pull him in whenever he wanted.

“I’ll text you when I’m done,” he promises as he heads toward the door. “I have to start packing, but I’ll let you know if you can swing by my dorm, or something.”

Hiro gives a nod of acknowledgement, but he looks as though he’s about ready to fall back asleep. As Tadashi leaves the penthouse, he feels his stomach flutter with how much he wants to see Hiro again. Even if they don’t have sex again, he just wants to be near him. _Talk_. Banter. He wants to cherish his time left with Hiro.

Outside, the driver is waiting. Hiro called last night and set up an appointment, and Tadashi feels awkward but accepts and ducks into the car. It’s a lot less fun to be in a private car alone, he realizes.

He thinks about Hiro and the way the boy pulled him closer all throughout the night. He thinks about how he made the smallest of whimpers every time he readjusted himself beneath the sheets. He thinks about how innocent Hiro looked when he left, bundled in those sheets with a tired expression and endless bedhead.

But, Hiro isn’t innocent. Far from it—and, not because he knows about sex and how to use his body. He’s cunning and unforgiving. He’s vengeful enough to inflict murder on those who have wronged him. Under so many laws, he’s a murderer.

Tadashi wonders if he should be afraid of Hiro.

It’s all he focuses on until he arrives at SFIT and walks into the classroom. There, he sees Robert, and his heart freezes. Tadashi blinks and blinks again, then starts toward the front. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing; he just does it, and he doesn’t care if it looks suspicious to walk up to his professor, minutes before the final exam.

Robert has a bruise on his neck.

 _Of fucking course_.

Not even in Tadashi’s craziest, most anxiety-induced dreams did he think he could ever feel this ashamed, this _disappointed_ in Robert. His body feels numb, yet he thinks, too, he might get sick from nausea. The thought of them together doesn’t seem possible. After all the things Robert proclaimed about Hiro’s father? After all the terrible things Alistair Krei did, to him? After all the things he did, _to Hiro_?

Then again, Robert never cared about any of that. He doesn’t see Hiro as a victim: Just a promiscuous child who enjoys cruel games. Tadashi finds himself shaking as Robert meets his gaze.

“Krei didn’t come home, last night,” Tadashi informs him, and the guilt that sweeps across Robert’s face is evident. “He didn’t come home the night before, either.”

“Tadashi,” the man starts through hushed words; “this is not the time, nor the place.”

He doesn’t care. “Do you know where he is?” Tadashi asks, surprised that his voice cracks. “Are you seeing him again?”

And, with that, the glow, the weightlessness that Robert has carried for the past thirty-two hours, vanishes. His heart rate quickens, and he knows he won’t be able to answer that question. How could he? Yesterday may have been the best day Robert Callaghan has had in twenty years; and, now, Tadashi is standing in front of him, reminding him that the unrealistic fantasy he allowed himself to fall into has to crash down, end.

“I’d rather not discuss this here,” he insists, quietly. “You can talk, to me, after the test.”

Another student enters, and Tadashi knows, by now, the classroom is full. Begrudgingly, he tears himself away from Robert and goes to take a seat. Robert begins an overview of the exam, but Tadashi immediately zones out. He doesn’t care about this test. He doesn’t care about anything, right now, except Hiro.

Hiro is going to fall apartwhen he discovers his dad was, in fact, with Robert. For all Tadashi knows, Krei is probably already home, and he and Hiro are battling it out, now. He convinces himself, for his own sanity, that Krei would never actually _hurt_ Hiro. Alistair Krei loves his son, and Tadashi wishes he didn’t recognize it, because it makes him ill _._ But, it’s there, hammering away at his conscience and reminding him that, at the end of all things, Hiro is not in immediate danger.

Tadashi understands, now, the sort of lengths Alistair has gone to, in order make sure he can keep Hiro, to himself. There’s nothing fatherly about that relationship, beyond what they moan together in bed. That love is coming from somewhere else—somewhere so impenetrable that even Robert will probably never understand.

When the tests are distributed, Tadashi manages to calm himself down long enough to begin working out the questions. It’s easier than he anticipates, although he knows he isn’t going to pass with a perfect score. He’s not the first to turn his test in, but he’s also not the last. Tadashi doesn’t look at Robert as he drops the packet on the desk, but he senses when his professor looks at him. He made sure to write a note at the top of the first page that instructed Robert to meet him after class.

In the hall, Tadashi takes out his phone and finds a text from Hiro that is merely a collection of emojis. He smiles, privately, and replies.

> you’re cute… test went fine btw. any sign of your dad?   
>  Sent at 12:51 p.m.

He imagines Hiro, still in bed, untangling himself from his sheets so that he can read the message. Has he eaten anything, today? _Will_ he eat anything, if there’s no one around to directly serve him, encourage him? Tadashi hopes he has enough sense to order delivery, or something.

It only takes a few minutes to receive a response.

> nope. should i come over?? ;)  
>  Sent at 12:55 p.m.

Tadashi tightens his grip on the phone. He wants to see him, but he also knows that, inevitably, Hiro will have to face his father. There’s a confrontation that needs to be had. It’s not as though Tadashi would want Hiro in the middle of his quarrels with Robert. But, should he warn Hiro? Should he tell him where his father has been?

> i really have to start packing. but soon! and call me if he comes home.  
>  Sent at 12:57 p.m.

Tadashi closes his phone and stuffs it in his pocket. It takes nearly another thirty minutes for the classroom to clear and Robert to come out. The man looks like he’s about to walk away, and Tadashi feels fury rise up in him. 

“You don’t even care, do you?” Tadashi sneers. “You’ve just chosen to forget all the terrible things that prick did, to you. He’s a _child molester_!”

“Lower your voice,” Robert hisses out. “I’ve been more than amicable with you. The least you can do is act the same.”

Robert knows, at this point, there’s probably nothing he can say that will quell Tadashi’s frustration. Robert certainly hasn’t done anything in the last few weeks to earn his forgiveness. He’s been critical of Hiro from the start, been avoidant and dismissive; and, now, he’s practically sleeping with the enemy.

“I’m well aware of Alistair Krei’s lack of morality,” he then tells him. “In case you’ve forgotten, I shared a life with him, at one point. But, it’s complicated, Tadashi. You need to let this go, okay?”

“I can’t,” Tadashi says. “I care about Hiro too much. And, despite, how _stupid_ I think you’re being, I still care about you.”

Robert exhales. “I care about you, too,” he whispers; “and, I’m still willing to sponsor you, next year. Baymax is too important to be forgotten.”

“That doesn’t matter, right now,” Tadashi argues. “I just—I don’t get it. I don’t get you. Do you have any idea the kind of things Hiro’s father has done?”

Because, despite Hiro’s insistence it was _all him_ , Tadashi refuses to clear Alistair Krei of guilt. Tadashi has a sinking feeling that Hiro’s teenage afterthought was a flame, and his father dumped kerosene on it.

“He’s—God, Robert, you should be _terrified_ of him.”

The truth is teetering on the edge, ready to fall to its escape; and, right now, Tadashi’s rational thinking is gone. All he can think about is getting _everyone_ the hell away from Alistair Krei. Even if it means dragging Hiro into a police investigation, a court case, a—

—but, behind them, a student calls out, to Robert. He turns, and the student is all smiles, asking if there are any spots left for his classes next semester. Robert smiles back, ushering the student to walk with him.

With a final turn of his head to Tadashi, Robert says: “Have a good summer, Mr. Hamada.”

* * *

Alistair can’t remember the last time he’s felt this content.

Robert has filled his lungs with fresh air, in a way that’s made him feel twenty-five again. Yesterday had been _perfect_ , an absolute escape from everything. After their breakfast, they showered—only to fall back into bed for hours. Alistair had enough sense to call his assistant and tell her he wouldn’t be coming into work, and it was two o’clock by the time they left Robert’s loft to catch an old French film that was showing at the theater. They shared a laugh at the joke that neither Tadashi nor Hiro would ever be caught dead accompanying them to see such a classic film.

They ordered takeout, for dinner. Chinese. A six pack of beer later, they were back in bed, fucking and begging for one another until the reality of the next day surfaced. Robert had a final to proctor. Alistair needed to get back to the office. They were silent as they drifted off to sleep; and, in the morning, their goodbyes were brief but sentimental.

Alistair can’t believe it’s been two decades since he’s felt this serenity. How did he survive? How the hell did he try to fill that void with other men? With women? With _Hiro_?

 _God_. Hiro is nowhere close. Alistair closes his eyes in the back of his private car, and he thinks back on the last six months. He sees flashes of Hiro: When they first had sex, when they had first foregone a condom, when Hiro had whispered in his ear to promise that no one would ever figure out _what they did_.

Alistair remembers Hiro’s well-collected tone and the way his eyes darkened with certainty. He contrasts that with the way Robert looks when he laughs and expresses his affection. It burns and, when Alistair opens his eyes and stares out the private car’s clean, tinted window, he wishes he could only afford a taxi.

Soon, the penthouse comes into view, standing against the dark sky like a cardboard cutout, and it all feels fake. The leather seats of the car. The doorman who greets him before he even steps into the lobby. The golden keycard he swipes in the elevator so he can press the button for the sixtieth floor. 

None of it is real. None of it is as serene as the cotton sheets on Robert’s bed, or the squeaky wooden floorboards, or the mismatched cups lined up in Robert’s cupboard. Cups they could have shared. Could have, could have, _could have_.

When Alistair enters the penthouse, he almost thinks Hiro isn’t home. The lights are all off; but, then again, that’s normal. Robert keeps his living room light on, even when he leaves, and Alistair found the return back to the loft warm, inviting.

Alistair throws his briefcase onto the chair and notes that the maid has been around. Either that, or Hiro has been inexplicably clean.

He almost wants to find Hiro and apologize for his behavior, for hitting Tadashi. Almost. But, he knows if they do that, they’ll go at it together again. It’s dangerous. He has to keep a stern distance from his son, right now. Robert made sure to explain, to him, how to be a father in this situation.

Upstairs, he spots Hiro. The boy is just leaving his bedroom, perhaps to investigate, when he sees Alistair coming up the stairs. He has his phone clutched in his hand.

Probably texting Hamada. 

Now that Alistair has calmed down, he doesn’t really know what to say. The sight of Hiro makes him anxious—and, _yet_ , he feels at peace. Like he’s home.

Except, this isn’t home. This is the illusion of home: A roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, an immaculate bathroom in which to shower. But, there is no trace of home. There is only a fourteen-year-old boy, probably pushing away the only chance of romance and happiness Alistair will ever have so he can enjoy the riches of his father.

Instead of seeing Maemi when he stares at the boy, he starts to see himself staring back. 

“I should have called,” he says, dry-mouthed. “I hope you left your room since I went out.”

Hiro quells. “I—I did,” he answers; “but, I didn’t leave the house, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His father is different, Hiro realizes. It’s probably on purpose. Perhaps this is how Alistair intends to behave: Barely making eye contact, acting avoidant. It’s oddly painful, and Hiro thinks, yet again, how much easier it would be if Alistair were just acting jealous and enraged.

When his father starts walking, Hiro does, too. He follows his father into the master bedroom. Alistair pulls out a pair of clothes from the bag he’s holding—the outfit he was wearing when they last saw each other—and throws it in the hamper. Hiro wonders if Alistair did go out and buy a new fucking suit for the past two days, or if he just has a closet full of them at the office. Both entirely possible.

“Were you at a hotel?” Hiro asks. “You could’ve texted me. Then again, I could text you all day and night, and you’d never respond, to me. What would happen if you died, huh? Like, realistically, how long would it take for someone to relay the news, to me?”

Alistair heaves a sigh and begins to undo his tie. Normally, the sight of his father beginning to undress would spark Hiro with lust, expectation; but, he’s not thinking about that, right now. He wants to interrogate him.

“I was worried, you know,” he decides to say, honestly. “I bet you probably don’t believe that.”

Alistair doesn’t. He doesn’t think Hiro even knows what it means to be worried. But, as much as Alistair thought he would revel in watching his son have a taste of his own medicine, he almost doesn’t want to tell the truth. He could lie. Yes, he had been at a hotel, and he just needed time to think. Except, it’s so far from the truth, even he would have trouble telling it.

He swallows. Starts to unbutton his shirt.

“I was with Robert,” he says.

There’s a very uncomfortable silence, then. And, when he finally turns and looks at Hiro, the boy’s expression is blank. Unreadable.

“You were with Hamada, weren’t you?” Alistair presses. “Don’t try and act like a betrayed little housewife, now.”

Hiro barely hears him. He fades out of the present, lost in his own disbelief, and _feels it_. The pain and the dread. And, _yes_ , the betrayal. Hiro doesn’t care if it’s hypocritical. All he can focus on is the pain ripping through him like nothing he’s ever experienced. 

He had thought it, feared it. But, ever optimistic, Tadashi convinced him there was nothing to worry about. Much like Tadashi convinced himself that his relationship with his professor was just some silly fling, that it was unimportant.

So much, for that.

Hiro stares at his father, who is staring back with his shirt undone, expecting a reaction. Hiro only whispers, stutters. “What’s so great about that stupid old man, anyway?” he asks. Then, he’s clenching his fists. “Just—why? _Why_? Because he has a nice cock? Christ. Can he even still get it up?”

Alistair doesn’t want to fight, but Hiro’s tone is so desperate that he’s tempted to start shouting. Hiro has no right to be desperate. He started this whole thing. _He’s_ the one who ruined everything they worked so hard to build.

He breathes in, heavily, and tries to control himself. It’s difficult. Hiro deserves to be put in his place; but, of course, he’s just jealous. He’s angry he doesn’t have control anymore, and Alistair isn’t surprised when the boy takes a few steps toward his father, testing their proximity.

“It might’ve been easy to hide what we’ve been doing,” Hiro says; “but, you can’t keep tabloids from reporting on you two. Everyone knows Callaghan is a homo. One photo of you two together, and the world will know all about you. You’re just trying to spite me.”

Alistair curses and moves away from Hiro. “Maybe I’ve decided to come out,” he remarks, bitterly. “How would you feel about that, Hiro? How would you control me, then?”

Hiro scowls. He knows Alistair doesn’t have the courage to come out. He’s bluffing, just trying to get a rise out of Hiro the way Hiro has done so many times, to him. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Hiro dismisses. “Your precious _Robert_ is leaving this summer, too. So, tough luck, Dad, but it’s just going to be the two of us again. That can’t disappoint you too much. I’ll always be a better fuck than that decrepit fag.”

“Jesus Christ, Hiro. Just _stop it_ , will you?”

“No!” Hiro shouts. “No, _Dad_. Not until you tell me what’s so goddamn great about him.”

“Hiro—”

“Tell me!”

“It doesn’t matter!” Alistair yells. “It’s not like you ever took my feelings into consideration when you continued to fuck Hamada. You _knew_ how I felt, and you still— _you still_ did it!”

Hiro feels paralyzed and uneven. He doesn’t have a defense; only accusations that are falling astray. And, then, there’s a vibration, a buzz, and neither of them speak when Hiro’s phone starts to ring in his hands. 

Hiro’s stomach turns to knots. He doesn’t care about answering Tadashi, right now.

 _No._ He wants to say all the right words and press against his father. He wants to sweet talk Alistair into remembering all that was _so good_ between them. Robert Callaghan can’t compare.

But, even standing across from him, Alistair feels a million miles away. It’s as terrifying and unfamiliar as the despair still soaring through him.

Ultimately, Hiro throws his phone on the mattress.

He reminds himself that he doesn’t need his sexuality to control Alistair Krei. There is plenty of other blackmail material against him.

“You’re so _stupid_ ,” Hiro laughs out, sounding detached as he settles onto the bed and crosses his arms. “What will your lost love think when you tell him how we offed my mom? Think he’ll feel nice and cozy, sleeping next to you? We can only trust each other, Daddy. You said so yourself.”

It takes a moment for Alistair to react. He stares, evaluating the boy’s tone and expression. Both are impenetrable. But, the smallest, _slightest_ slant of Hiro’s lips has Alistair’s breath catching.

“You wouldn’t,” he whispers. “I know you better than that.”

“No, Daddy, you don’t,” he argues, and Alistair focuses his gaze; “because I already told Tadashi.”

_There._

It’s frightening to watch the boy’s lips curl into that full, satisfied smile. Alistair’s blood runs cold, and his mind blanks, alongside his continued inability to breathe. He barely notices when he drops his tie.

“You—you fucking _didn’t_ ,” he heaves out. “You—?”

“I’ll tell your new boyfriend myself,” Hiro threatens. “I think he’d love to hear all the sordid details, don’t you?”

“No,” Alistair hisses out, lowly. He grabs at Hiro’s wrist and pulls him up from the bed. The maniacal laugh that leaves Hiro has Alistair gripping tighter, _harder_. “He’s never going to find out. Do you understand? And, so help me, Hiro, I will make sure you never leave this _goddamn_ house, if that’s what it takes.”

He’ll put the fucking kid on house arrest. He’s not risking that. He’s not letting himself get caught, knowing what it would do to his name, his life, his legacy. To Robert.

Alistair grabs Hiro’s other wrist. It’s remarkable how easily he could just _snap_ his bones.

“I trust Tadashi to stay silent,” Hiro continues. He doesn’t writhe beneath his father’s grasp; instead, he tilts his head and gazes up at him. “You clearly don’t trust Callaghan.”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about Robert, you fucking _psychopath_. Do you really think Tadashi cares? Do you think he _loves_ you?” Alistair bellows out a laugh. “Christ, Hiro. No one wants to be around a manipulative whore like you. You’re insane, and he’s going to see that and leave you, just like _everyone else_.”

And, all that once, before Alistair can even register what has been said, the light goes out in Hiro’s eyes.

His expression crumbles. His mouth flatlines.

Something in that string of words breaks him. Alistair doesn’t look as though he regrets it. In fact, his expression is hard, unforgiving, and Hiro starts to remember.

He’s heard those words before, he realizes. He remembers staring back at an angry face, keeping his distance but knowing he couldn’t leave.

She was all he had.

Hiro turns away. “I… You’re—she used to say that, too,” he whispers. When he smiles, it’s a sad astonishment, and he can’t quite recall if he ever had a defense against those vicious allegations. “She used to blame me.”

When her boyfriends would run out on them. When everyone turned their backs on them. It was his fault, he remembers. 

He couldn’t ever keep anyone around.

“Hiro…”

Hiro meets his father’s eyes. It’s not a game anymore. Hiro doesn’t have the need, nor the means, to play. And, yet, he’s convinced Alistair would prefer him to be pushed over the edge.

“Are you—going to leave me, too?” he asks, voice strained.

For the first time in a while, Hiro looks legitimately devastated. He’s scared but vacant. And, it’s a defense mechanism, _yes_ —but, Hiro going blank is such a startling reminder of what his life was like with Maemi and what he’s tried, so desperately, to bury away.

Alistair moves. He rushes back over to Hiro, falling to his knees and pulling Hiro close. “No,” he rushes out. Hiro doesn’t react to the physical touch. “No. No, Hiro, of course not. I would never—I’m… I’m here, okay?”

He isn’t convinced Hiro is even _breathing_.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, and his heart is pounding. “I promised you that. Even if this changes—even if we aren’t… It doesn’t matter, okay? I’m still your father.”

More than any other man that’s ever been in Hiro’s life. Alistair has fed him, clothed him—even taken care of him when he was sick in bed with a fever. He went to Hiro’s high school graduation and stole him home before the media chased them down. He went to court and filed for legal adoption. He set up a trust fund, just for Hiro, one that one else can ever touch.

“Hiro, look at me,” he pleads. “ _Hiro_. Goddammit, Hiro, please? I won’t leave you.”

Hiro almost finches when his father reaches to touch his face. It doesn’t feel right. It feels cold and foreign, and he’s pulling away when Alistair’s arms wrap around him, pulling him in and cradling his small body.

Maybe he doesn’t deserve anyone. Maybe he’s just as awful as his mother, manipulating men, torturing them until they break.

“Hiro,” Alistair repeats. “I won’t leave you. I—I love you, Hiro. You have to know that. I _love_ you.”

Hiro heaves out a whimper and presses his face against Alistair’s chest. He can’t remember the last time he’s heard those words. If his mom ever said them, they certainly weren’t to him. 

“No… You don’t,” he whispers. He wonders why he’s not crying. He wishes he could. Maybe his voice wouldn’t sound so hoarse. “You hate me. You hate who I am and what I do.”

Hiro’s small fingers reach up, grasping at Alistair’s unbuttoned shirt and pulling him closer. Alistair can’t possibly love him. Not after everything he’s done; everything he’s forced Alistair to do in return. That word isn’t meant for people like them. Hiro feels sick.

“You want him,” he says. “You want him, not me.”

_Robert Callaghan._

Of course. Of course his father is still in love with Robert Callaghan. It’s not fucking fair that he can’t have Alistair all to himself. He can’t have Tadashi, either. Both of them are so stupidly enamored by that washed up faggot. Hiro will never be good enough, and he _knows_ this, but he can’t find the proper words to respond. His entire body feels weak. When he moves back to settle against the mattress, he’s relieved Alistair doesn’t protest and, instead, lies down with him, keeping Hiro close.

Alistair pets his son’s hair and kisses the crown of his head as the boy exhales. Everything feels so definite. Tadashi is leaving, and Alistair is fading further and further away.

Nothing is right anymore.

“I don’t understand this,” Alistair chokes out. “I hate myself for getting here, and I’m—sorry, Hiro. But, I’m not leaving. We’re going to figure this out, okay?”

Hiro thinks, maybe, he nods. If he does, it’s weak.

“Do you think it’s possible for us to ever be—normal?” Hiro asks, quietly.

Alistair pushes some of Hiro’s hair out of his face. “We’re certainly going to try,” he tells him, and it’s incredible how small Hiro feels in his arms. “I know it sounds scary, but we’ll try, Hiro. I’m not going to leave you.”

Hiro’s still relatively unresponsive, but Alistair has to tell himself that this is just part of Hiro’s defense mechanism. This has to be about more than just Robert. 

“I’ve overlooked you,” Alistair admits; “but, I won’t anymore. We’re going to help you, all right? Even if that means talking to someone. A professional.”

He knows Hiro hates the idea of a therapist. Hiro hates the idea that something is wrong with him. But, Hiro needs proper help. For months, Alistair turned a blind eye in favor of his lust, his greed, and he can’t anymore. He _can’t_.

“I’m going to make sure you’re okay, Hiro. I promise.”

Alistair promised the very same, months ago. Hiro doesn’t think he broke that promise. _Not really_. It may have been selfish and impulsive, but their agreement against Maemi had held so much between them. To this day, Alistair is the only one who has really understood. And, crueler than the crime, Hiro can recognize the malevolence in thinking that, perhaps, Maemi’s death had brought them even closer. 

Back then, as the plan unfolded, Hiro saw the hate grow in Alistair’s eyes, each and every day he looked at Maemi. It had validated something within Hiro, because no one ever looked at Maemi Takachiho that way. Men loved her. Men wanted her. 

Alistair, however, knew the truth; and, unlike the other men who chose to play along with Maemi and use Hiro, Alistair fought back.

“Stay here,” Hiro breathes out, feeling Alistair move. “Please, Dad? Stay here with me?”

The touch between them, now, is gentle. It’s not heated and sexual. They’re not solving their argument with rough sex and possessive words, and Hiro wonders if this is how a parent is supposed to behave. His mother certainly never held him this way. Hiro always tried to imagine what it’d be like to have a broken heart, to need someone to hold him close and tell him everything is going to be okay. It scares him to consider that is what is transpiring between them, now; but, it feels right. Easy.

 _Safe_.

Sometime during the night, Hiro falls asleep. When he awakes, just briefly, he’s relieved to find his father is still next to him in bed. He’s pulled the cover over their bodies and is keeping his distance on the other side of the mattress, but it’s comforting to have him nearby. 

Hiro rolls over, inching closer but not enough to touch the man.


	11. Chapter 11

The sun is out, and Alistair is gone. His cologne floats in the air, and Hiro focuses on that comfort as he stays beneath the sheets, shielding himself from the harsh morning light. He heard his father shower, felt him kiss his forehead and whisper words that Hiro knows, now, aren’t just a figment of his haunted, fractured imagination.

_I love you._

That simple, singular phrase has cradled him through the night and, even now, urges him to sit up and check the time. It’s almost ten in the morning. His phone is beside him, and there’s a message from Tadashi and two missed calls, from last night. Slowly, he grabs the device.

> fuck. hiro, are you okay? please call me.  
>  Sent at 1:21 a.m.

There’s a strange wave of disinterest that creeps upon him. It’s not unlike how he felt when the phone rang, last night. But, as it easy as it would be to shut off the phone and forget the sentiment, Hiro doesn’t want to worry Tadashi any further.

> sorry i fell asleep. im fine. my dad did come home though. didn’t really talk.  
>  Sent at 9:47 a.m.

He wonders if that classifies as lying, whether he should feel guilty for not telling Tadashi the full truth. But, what the hell would he say? That he and Alistair had some kind of heart to heart? A breakthrough?

Tadashi responds and says he’ll be packing for most of the day but that Hiro can come over tomorrow morning, if he wants. It may be one less day with Tadashi, but Hiro is, admittedly, relieved. He doesn’t have the energy to leave the penthouse. He’s not even sure he has the energy, right now, to see Tadashi.

It makes Hiro uneasy, picturing Tadashi’s empty, packed away dorm. The campus probably already feels deserted and eerily quiet. Is Callaghan still around? Did Tadashi say his goodbyes, yesterday? Was it on good terms? Selfishly, he hopes not.

Hiro has asked himself—at least a dozen times, now—what the _hell_ is so wonderful and inspiring about Robert Callaghan, and he still hasn’t come up with an answer. So _what_ if he’s successful and famous? So is Alistair. So are a million other people in the world.

But, those other people don’t have years of history with Alistair. Robert does; and, for years, he was Alistair’s partner, his equal. Hiro has never been any of that, to Alistair, so how could his father possibly love him? He’s just a secret, locked away in the penthouse, and the occasional prop to be used in photographs so that the charade of Alistair’s dedicated fatherhood is continued.

Hiro could be more. He could make a name, for himself, and invent something better than any lame discoveries by Professor Callaghan. Hiro has ideas, theories. It’s not like he doesn’t have the resources, either. Hiro could easily come up with revolutionary tech in one of the Krei Tech labs, and he’d make his father proud, he thinks.

The problem, however, is his lack of ambition. Hiro only excelled in school because it was an easy distraction from his life with Maemi. Even back in grade school, when he was being uprooted every few years, he still managed to keep his focus. Teachers always liked him. Challenged him. None of them ever questioned his home life, but Maemi’s occasional appearances were telling enough. She was either an escort, or something far stranger.

Hiro spends the remainder of his morning in bed. His mind wanders, his emotions waver, and he doesn’t find the willpower to get up and shower until around noon. Tadashi has sent various photos throughout the day, including a photo of himself, appearing sweaty and exhausted. Hiro appreciates it but doesn’t return the favor.

He feels though he’s stepped into another realm. The impact of not being able to casually text his father is starting to catch up with him, and conversing with Tadashi now feels exhausting. After his shower, Hiro goes downstairs and slumps onto the couch. For a long while, he doesn’t move. He just stares at the skylights.

Under plenty of basic diagnoses, Hiro knows he’s fitting the criteria quite well for depression. It’d be a miracle, he thinks, if he wasn’t depressed. But, as aware as he’s becoming of that not-so pleasant fact, it’s still terrifying to think about therapy.

What would he say? How would he say it? Half the things he’d want to talk about would land Alistair—and himself—in prison. Would he have to speak in code and create characters to imitate his mother and Alistair? Hiro doubts he’d ever be able to keep up the lies. There’d be inconsistencies, warped timelines, illogical connections. His therapist would, one day, see through it all and figure out the truth.

Hiro feels his phone vibrate, but he doesn’t reach to grab it. He merely rolls over, stuffing his face into the cushions and curling inward until he takes up the absolute least amount of space on the sofa. The position is cramped and awkward, but he stays still. Only briefly does he remember doing this in the back of his mother’s beat-up Chevy, when they were homeless and penniless and the sound of heavy rain slamming against the vehicle felt like the world was collapsing around him. Sometimes, he had wished it would.

Eventually, Hiro falls back to sleep; and, for the first time in nearly a year, he dreams about his mother.

* * *

Very rarely is a work day deemed unproductive, for Alistair Krei. Even if stock numbers are at a standstill, even if deals aren’t pulling through, even if it’s the day after your wife’s untimely death, Alistair has always found a way to turn chaos and frustration into even the mildest of success.

Today, however, has not been one of those days; and, by early noon, he decides to head out of the office.

He hasn’t heard from Robert, today. It’s somewhat of a relief, frankly, because Alistair isn’t certain he could deal with that expectation, right now. It’s Hiro who needs his attention, right now, and Alistair has been so preoccupied with the thoughts regarding his son that he even attempted to call him, earlier. There hadn’t been an answer and, although it stung, Alistair thinks he understands. After all, the last time they spoke on the phone was when this whole mess began, when Alistair summoned Hiro to his office with a plan he never thought, at the time, could possibly backfire.

It’s a type of irony with which Alistair is unfamiliar. He caused this happen. _He_ set the gears in motion. If he had just accepted Tadashi Hamada’s answer of _no_ , then everything would have remained the same. Hiro would be in bed, right now, waiting for his father to return home, and they would continue to play their game of hurried dirty talk and frantic, passionate lovemaking. 

Of course, that is what Alistair tells himself. Deep down, he knows better. He knew, all along, his relationship with Hiro was a ticking time bomb. Something as taboo, as illicit as an affair with your underage stepchild could never be normal.

It hasn’t stopped hurting, though. Alistair wonders if it ever will, or if the heartbreak and guilt he’s experiencing is a well-deserved punishment for his behavior.

At the elevator, Gogo is waiting to board. Alistair considers for about three, four seconds to head the other direction, but the woman is already looking up from her tablet, a skeptical expression written across her face.

“Heading out?” she voices, and it passes as idle conversation, but Alistair knows better. “I just got your email that you’re leaving early.”

Alistair nods and presses the down button, despite it already being lit. “That’s correct.”

“Everything all right?” she asks. She shuts off her tablet and looks up at her boss, curious but cautious. “Haven’t seen Hiro in a while.”

Alistair can see more on her expression than she probably intends. It’s gentler, less condescending, and Alistair wonders how often Gogo has found herself trying to decode her boss’s personal life, or if it just comes naturally, for her.

“He’s fine,” he lies.

“Honey has been asking,” she admits. “She says she has something, for him. I think it’s a bunch of free samples from that makeup boutique she likes.”

“That’s very considerate of her,” Alistair replies. “She could always just give it, to me, for him. It’s not like I don’t see my son every day.”

Gogo raises an eyebrow. “No offense, Krei, but you’re a little intimidating, to her.”

Alistair scoffs, and Gogo wonders, briefly, if that was the right thing to say. It more than implies that she and her girlfriend are discussing their boss behind his back, but it’s not as though that is an unheard of phenomenon. She also doubts Alistair really cares. It’s more the mention of Hiro that has him looking and sounding so far away.

“You’re probably relieved Hamada is leaving town,” she decides. The elevator arrives, and they silently wait for it to clear out before boarding. “I think it’s pretty clear that plan of yours didn’t go the way you intended.”

“Do you have a point, Miss Tomago?” Alistair snaps. “I’d rather not discuss this with you.”

Gogo crosses her arms and leans against the elevator wall. “Just be thankful he hasn’t opted to sue you,” he states.

Alistair laughs. “For what? Trying to offer him a reasonable fortune?”

“Coercion, sexual harassment,” Gogo lists off. “Those might not have been from you, but you were the one who initiated it.”

“Don’t remind me,” he murmurs.

“Well,” Gogo continues, sounding methodical; “Hiro should have more free time for his actual internship. I mean, if he’s even still interested, now that there isn’t some cute guy around to keep his attention.”

Alistair closes his eyes, then. He doesn’t want to lose his temper, but it’s difficult. He wonders if Gogo is doing this on purpose, testing him. Maybe it’s just his paranoia talking.

“There’ll be others,” she then tells him with a shrug, and Alistair opens his eyes, staring back at her and trying to decipher her words. “Inventions, I mean. Better ones than Baymax.”

 _How clever_.

Alistair gives a quiet hum of acknowledgment, and he’s relieved to exit the cramped space and step into the lobby. Gogo follows, heading toward the reception desk. If Alistair were feeling less irritated, he’d take a moment to converse with Honey Lemon and, perhaps, offer to take her gift to Hiro. Thankfully, she and Gogo are already busy, discussing lunch options.

He isn’t certain at what point he decided he’d like to take a detour; but, when he meets his driver outside, his instructions are clear. They’re not heading back to the penthouse; they’re going to SFIT.

Alistair’s heart beats faster than it should as they approach the campus, but he knows it’s not because of his intentions. He thinks, perhaps, it’s the knowledge Robert is nearby. Robert would shame him and, even if the man is not on the best terms with Tadashi, Alistair has very little doubt the stupid twink won’t find time in his day to text his professor and tattle his melodrama.

He decides, quite quickly, he doesn’t care about that. A conversation with Tadashi is necessary, both for his own sanity and for Hiro’s. The car makes its rounds toward the dormitories, and Alistair focuses on the various students, moving boxes to and from their cars, carrying large plastic tubs to the curb.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long. It’s less than an hour, actually, when Tadashi Hamada emerges from one of the buildings. Alistair presses the intercom for his driver and instructs him to start moving again.

Tadashi is so engrossed in his phone that he doesn’t notice when the private, unmarked car starts to follow him up the hill. He certainly—hopefully—must not have the intention of meeting someone, considering his appearance leaves much to be desired. Dirty shirt, messy hair, lazily tied sneakers. He’s probably spent his entire day packing and is heading toward the cafeteria for a meal break.

Alistair feels a particular wave of euphoria wash through him at the reminder that, in forty-eight hours, Tadashi Hamada will be gone.

When they’re on a more secluded street, his driver starts to slow down. The surrounding buildings appear empty, and there are no signs of fellow students wandering about. Alistair has nearly forgotten how strange universities feel in those final hours before summer break.

He presses down for the window. “Hamada,” he voices, calm, and Tadashi’s reaction is instantaneous. He jolts, moving further against the sidewalk and peering back and forth his peripheral view before settling on the car in front of him. “I think we should talk.”

Immediately on alert, Tadashi tightens his grip on his phone. “You gotta be kidding me,” he scoffs out. “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

He starts to walk again—faster, this time—and, he’s straining his legs with just how quickly he’s skipping steps. The car continues to move beside him.

“This isn’t a trick,” Alistair defends. “A civil conversation is all I’m requesting.”

Tadashi laughs to himself, but Alistair can see the panic in his walk. “Fuck off.”

Alistair exhales and presses the intercom button to give further instructions. Seconds later, the car abruptly stops, and the driver emerges. Alistair has to resist a smile as Tadashi is wrangled into a vice grip. He tries to be quick, but Alistair’s driver is larger, stronger. Without so much as a struggle, he rips open the back door and forcibly pushes Tadashi into the car.

The door closes behind him.

“Jesus Christ!” he yells, yanking at the handle that is, of course, already locked. “Do you not know how to act like a normal fucking person? Let me the hell out, Krei.”

Alistair crosses his legs. “I considered sending you an email to invite you to my office,” he tells him; “but, I doubt you would’ve responded. Unfortunately, this seems more productive.”

Tadashi tries at the door again, pressing just about every switch on the back dashboard as the car starts to move again. It’s useless. He’s trapped. Trapped in about an eight foot wide perimeter with Alistair Krei. He tries not to let his subsequent gulp be heard. Instead, he backs against the door, ensuring there’s as much space as possible between the two.

“What the hell do we even have to discuss?” he spats out.

“What do you think?” Alistair asks, frowning. “We need to talk about Hiro.”

Tadashi’s body goes tense. He can’t find it in himself to breathe, now. He’s scared. This whole thing is suspiciously similar to just about every mafia-related murder he’s ever read about, and he’s more than aware, now, how capable Alistair Krei is of committing such an act.

It’s possible, Tadashi thinks, that Alistair knows about Hiro’s confession. This could all be a rouse. A distraction so that Alistair can take down Tadashi, too. There’s no telling just how far Alistair will go to keep his secrets.

“I have nothing to say,” Tadashi voices. “I’m leaving for the summer. You know that. So, congratulations, Krei—you win. But, good luck trying to explain Robert and Hiro to one another.”

The fury in Tadashi’s gaze is evident, but it’s his tone, and the careful way he narrows his eyes, that has Alistair curious. Maybe it’s jealousy. Resentment. 

“You’ve spoken to Robert, then,” Alistair says, and it’s not a question.

He wonders if it’s even worth trying to have a discussion with Tadashi. The kid wants to pick a fight, which Alistair supposes isn’t too surprising. It’s not as though any of their interactions with one another have been amicable. And, _well_ , he did just have him manhandled into the vehicle. Tadashi’s defiance is understandable, but it’s not as though Alistair has any intention of driving him to an abandoned warehouse and having him murdered.

Unfortunately.

“I—regret hitting you,” he then says, trying to restart. “I know it upset Hiro, and that was not my intention.”

“Oh, please,” Tadashi sneers. “It’s a little late to play the good guy, here.”

“I’m not particularly concerned about what you think I may or may not be doing, right now,” Alistair admits, impatient. “I’ve—I’ve decided Hiro should see someone.”

Tadashi stares, uncertain. Alistair sounds preoccupied, even hesitant. He certainly isn’t holding himself up to the same poised confidence he displayed on their initial meeting.

“A therapist,” the man specifies. “I started looking for someone, today.”

He hadn’t spent too long searching, but it’s already proven difficult. Alistair knows better than to send his son to a male. There’s no scenario where that would end well. But, finding a female who specializes in Hiro’s particular trauma won’t be easy, and Alistair doesn’t want to just choose anyone. Hiro needs someone he can trust. He needs someone who will truly listen and understand his past.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” Tadashi asks, but it isn’t vicious, and he feels like the punch of his words is fading fast. “I don’t know everything about what Hiro’s been through. I’m not sure you do, either.”

“You’re right,” Alistair admits; “I don’t.”

That alone pains Alistair more than he can explain. He wishes he could be the one to help Hiro, to guide him toward a better future. It hurts because, at one point, he could have been that person. Instead, he chose his lust, his depravity. Alistair is just another man is Hiro’s life who chose to abuse him, rather than help him.

“Then, what the hell do you want from me?” Tadashi asks. He glances out the window and sees that they’re circling just outside the campus. “The only reason I haven’t gone to the police is because I know that’s not what Hiro wants. Okay? So, don’t think you’re getting away with this because I’m scared of you, or some shit.”

“Stop acting so self-righteous,” Alistair hisses out. “Christ, you’re a child.” 

Tadashi has about two dozen comebacks for that one, but he keeps quiet. The tension between them is too thick, and it has him on edge. He watches the man reach into the car’s wet bar, grabbing a miniature bottle of bourbon and twisting it open. His expression softens when he speaks again.

“He’s devastated that you’re leaving,” Alistair says. “He’s never had friends. I guess you’re about the closest thing to a friend he’s had, and he’s—he needs to talk, to someone.”

Tadashi stares. He’s not sure what Alistair is trying to do. Make him feel guilty? He doesn’t need to force the feeling into Tadashi’s head. He already hates leaving Hiro, already hates watching him so obviously clinging to every moment they have together.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” he mutters. “I know you’d never ask me to stay.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Alistair answers, curtly; “but, I want to know what your intentions are with my son, Hamada. What you intend to do when you come back, in the fall. I want to know you’re not just doing this to spite me.”

He doesn’t care to watch for Tadashi’s expression. The risk of Tadashi’s sincerity is unnerving; or, worse, the lack thereof. Alistair pulls in his lips and looks at the small bottle of alcohol. It’s hardly a fair brand of whiskey, but he takes a sip and offers Tadashi a taste. Reluctantly, the younger man accepts. A second later, he blanches.

Alistair scoffs. “What, does Robert only treat you to fancy, colorful cocktails?”

“I care about Hiro,” Tadashi states, ignoring the dig at his relationship with Robert. Something inside of him swells with frustration. “Jesus. You can’t stop the two of us from seeing each other, when I get back. I _want_ to see him, Krei.”

“I have no intention of doing such a thing,” Alistair tells him. He pulls at his shirt cuff and clears his throat. “Whatever was between us is over. It has to be… And, I know you won’t believe my word, but it’s not as though I believe yours, either.”

“You’re so pathetic,” he laughs out, then muttering something under his breath. “And, _jealous_. I’m not dating your son. You don’t have to give me the third degree. It was—just sex, and we’re friends, now, okay? Chill out.”

It’s then that Alistair has to close his eyes and breathe. He pictures what Hiro’s expression would be if he heard Tadashi’s words.

_Just sex._

He understands the guidelines between Tadashi and Robert’s affair. That relationship was meant to be practical, careful, and Alistair wonders just how far out it will be when Tadashi looks back and finds himself laughing at Robert’s expense. Does Tadashi even respect Robert anymore?

“I don’t think Hiro sees it that way anymore,” Alistair admits. “I think you’re the first person he’s ever wanted to know beyond sharing a bed.”

Tadashi appears guilty at his chosen words, and he rips his gaze away from Alistair and focuses on how glare from the window burns down onto the small bottle of alcohol.

“You don’t love him, then, do you?”

The worry in Alistair’s voice should have Tadashi in a rage, but the question has him frozen. He’s not incapable of loving Hiro. He considers, one day, that could be a very real possibility. Hiro is special and beautiful. He’s also challenging, and Tadashi respects his intellect. But, it’s not love.

It’s just not.

“No,” he whispers. “No, it’s not—”

His words stumble, and he still can’t look at Alistair. He’s afraid of the relief he’ll see, there.

“He doesn’t love me, either,” Tadashi continues, almost as though he’s reassuring the man. “But, I care about him a lot. I’m not your— _competition_. Hiro is your son, for Christ’s sake.” 

“I know that,” Alistair hisses out. Then, calmer, he amends: “Believe me, I know.”

Perhaps it’s his own admission, left unanswered, that has him feeling humiliated, ashamed. As desperate and in need as Hiro is to be loved, Alistair knows the boy didn’t necessarily want a confession from his father. He wanted it from Tadashi.

Alistair will never forget that broken look on Hiro’s face, last night. The inability to believe anyone could even care about him that way. It was heartbreaking and brutal. But, above all else, it was frighteningly telling of Hiro’s perception of relationships. He still doesn’t understand.

“It’s better that you’re leaving,” Alistair says, but it’s not cruel. “He needs a break from all this, from you.”

“Maybe,” Tadashi admits, softly. He stares out the window and realizes they’re still circling the surrounding blocks of the university. “That doesn’t mean it’ll be better if he never hears from me again.”

“I didn’t say that,” Alistair defends. “You already know far more than he’ll ever be able to tell a professional.”

Tadashi manages the courage to look at Alistair, then. The insinuation is more than just their affair. It’s clear Alistair does, in fact, know. It’s unsettling how tightly knit that bond is between father and son. They’re lovers. Conspirators. They’re _murderers_. It’s a twisted, unhealthy relationship, but it’s a bond with which Tadashi may never compete. 

“I’d like you to take me back, now,” he breathes out.

“Fine,” Alistair agrees. He leans forward, pressing the intercom and telling his driver as much. “Are you seeing him, later tonight?”

“No. Tomorrow, though. I leave the following day.”

The car pulls up to the dormitories, and Tadashi hears the doors unlock. Although his nerves have mostly settled, he still reaches out for the handle, immediately propping the door open. He doesn’t know what to say, then. He’s not going to thank Alistair Krei for their bizarre conversation. He’s not going to tell him to take care of Hiro over the summer. It all feels artificial, and Alistair must sense it, because he turns away and closes his eyes.

“Try not to break his heart,” he breathes out.

Tadashi can’t deny how his heart skips a beat—shock, uncertainty, _guilt_ —but, he has no response as he climbs out of the car, shaken.

* * *

When Alistair steps into the elevator of the penthouse, he doesn’t realize where he is until it starts to move. He’s been somewhere else, mentally, for the past hour. Just thinking.

Alistair has no right to hate Tadashi Hamada as much as he does; he’s just a college student, barely legal, fresh out of the countryside and completely unaware how real relationships work. All he did was act on a crush he had that, by all accounts, had been reciprocated. 

Even with Robert, Tadashi had most likely just been reacting to stimuli. Robert had to have encouraged it, had to have said something that would make the option a reality.

Inside the penthouse, it’s not dark. The lights are on, and Hiro is at the dining room table, and Alistair’s universe seems to simultaneously fall apart and piece itself back together. He’s dressed in one of his many oversized shirts, along with the smallest pajama shorts, and his hair is a mess. He must have just woken up. There’s a bowl of cereal in front of him and dribbles of milk are on the glass table. He’s scrolling through a webpage on his phone.

“Didn’t bother to get up sooner?” Alistair says, voice rough, before he clears his throat.

Alistair hates feeling this way, hates staring at his son and thinking about how beautiful he looks, right now. He hates the side of him that acknowledges how even _younger_ Hiro appears, dressed down in attire that is only meant to be comfortable, not sexual.

His eyes follow Hiro’s arm as he sets down his spoon into the bowl and glances over.

“I was up earlier,” he says, sheepishly; “but, I fell back asleep.”

His voice, like Alistair’s, cracks. Hiro realizes he hasn’t spoken to anyone, today. He spent another two hours on the couch, sound asleep, and he can’t recall any of his dreams.

“You’re home early,” he then notes, glancing over at his father, who is already loosening his tie. He tries not to think anything more of the display. “It’s not even five o’clock.”

“I wasn’t getting much done,” he admits.

It’s mundane, pointless small talk, and it hurts. Just a month ago, Hiro would be jumping into Alistair’s arms, kissing him and desperately tearing at clothes. Moaning, whimpering, begging—

—but, now, Hiro just goes back to eating his cereal. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence wherein Alistair debates telling Hiro that he saw Tadashi. He wonders how Hiro would react to that. Would he be upset? Intrigued? Who exactly is going to start this conversation, if there’s going to be one, at all?

“You must have needed all that rest,” he decides on saying. “It must’ve been, what, twelve hours?”

“Are you patronizing me?” Hiro asks, defensive. “I was tired.”

Alistair looks taken aback. “No,” he quickly says, taking the adjacent seat at the table. “I don’t mean to—make you uncomfortable, Hiro. I know I’m not very good at this, and I apologize.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. What is there to say, beyond how he can’t even speak to his own son? Alistair knew it wouldn’t be easy, but this is borderline terrifying. He can’t even be around his son without thinking about how good he looks in those undersized shorts.

Hiro’s legs are smooth and perfect. His wrists are small and so very easy to collect with one hand. Alistair tears away his gaze and allows the guilt to consume him. If Robert knew the depth of his thoughts regarding Hiro, he would hate him. It’s a miracle that, right now, he doesn’t. Robert thinks of Alistair as some kind of tragic story: A closeted gay man, whose suppressed temptations led him to lusting after the only other male in his life.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” Hiro murmurs. His cereal is mushy and sugarless, now. “I just didn’t expect you to be home, is all. I thought you’d be with—him.”

It’s not even the lovemaking that has Hiro’s stomach twisting. It’s the normalcy of their interaction with one another. It’s probably so easy. They don’t have to think about what they’re going to say to one another. They don’t have to pretend. They have history and about twenty years of bottled up emotions that have started to pour over.

“I guess you probably thought I’d be with Tadashi.”

“No, actually,” Alistair admits. “I spoke with him, myself.”

Hiro drops his spoon again. “What?” he says, practically a demand. He picks up his phone and navigates back to this text messages. Tadashi has failed to mention this turn of events. “You—? What did he say? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” the man replies. “It was amicable. _Well_ , as amicable as that teenager is willing to behave. I swear, Hiro, you’re far more mature than him.”

Hiro’s expression is all suspicion. “If this is a rouse so that I apologize to the professor, I’m not falling, for it,” he remarks. “Besides, I don’t even owe him an apology. If anything, he should apologize, to me.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” Alistair tells him, and he watches as Hiro’s expression goes pensive. He wishes he could reach out and brush his bangs away from his eyes. “Hiro…”

“Did you mean what you said, last night?” Hiro asks, abruptly.

Alistair doesn’t mean to hesitate, but his heart is too busy skipping with remorse, and he frowns. “Which part?”

Somehow, whether it’s his father’s ignorance or unwillingness to acknowledge what had been said, it stings. He swirls his spoon in the milk and shrugs.

“Well, you said you wanted me to go to a therapist,” Hiro provides, dully. “You also said you loved me, you said—”

A lot of things, Hiro thinks, but he’s not recalling the names that were yelled. In so many ways—too many ways—those accusations mean nothing anymore. Even Tadashi had proclaimed plenty of ill-will toward Hiro. It’s Alistair’s confession that has his heart palpitating with uncertainty.

“Did you meant it?” he repeats. “Do you really love me?”

“I meant it, Hiro.” Alistair stands, then, because sitting feels like torture. “And, I’m not going to walk away from you. Why would you think I didn’t mean any of that?”

“Because you’re—sleeping with him,” Hiro voices through a croak. Hiro pushes his bowl away. He’s no longer hungry. In fact, he feels rather nauseous. “When you told me, I figured, I don’t know, you were going to run away with him, or something. I mean, isn’t that what you want? To be with him again?”

“I slept with him,” Alistair corrects, quickly. “We’ve barely spoken, since.”

That makes Alistair’s heart ache powerfully, and he starts to contemplate what he wants to drink, tonight. Wine, perhaps. He’s growing a bit tired of whiskey.

Still at the table, Hiro murmurs: “So, he’s not going to be my evil stepmother?” Despite himself, Alistair laughs. “You’re not going to bring him home and fuck him on the couch, while I’m upstairs?”

Hiro can’t imagine a worse scenario. He supposes it’d be retribution for inviting Tadashi into the penthouse, but at least Alistair hadn’t been home. Hiro feels sick to his stomach, picturing his father and Robert sitting at this very dining room table, eating by candlelight, or whatever over-the-hill faggots do with one another.

“No, Hiro, I’m not going to do that, to you,” Alistair replies. It’s not meant to sound resentful, but he catches his own tone and immediately regrets it. “We’re not seeing each other. It’s not that dissimilar to your own affairs. I’ve been told that you and Hamada are relatively—casual.”

He’s careful with his wording, then. It’s a stark contradiction to last night’s cruel proclamations.

“Well, he hasn’t asked me to marry him, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Hiro murmurs. He finally stands from the table and throws his dishes into the sink. Alistair is uncorking a bottle of red wine. “Do you love Callaghan? Does he love you?”

“It’s been a while, Hiro.” He avoids eye contact on purpose as he pours himself a glass. “Twenty years. I’ve experienced a lot of life, and so has Robert. It’s not so simple. That’s not how love works.”

Hiro watches his father swirl the dark wine in his glass. When he takes a sip, his eyes close, and he displays a momentary escape. Hiro picks up the bottle and sniffs it.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Hiro tells him, whispering. He clenches the bottle in his grip. “I hate thinking about you with him. I hate knowing he—fucked you.”

Hiro realizes that Robert probably knows an entirely different side of sex with both Tadashi and Alistair, and it has nothing to do with the fact he’s topped them both. It’s just— _different_. Probably very all loving and passionate. Hiro doubts there are dirty exchanges and tests of willpower. Hiro doubts they call each other filthy names.

“I think your hatred for him is a little biased,” Alistair points out, softly but sternly. “He’s not as bad as your mind makes him out to be, Hiro. I’ve started to realize that about Tadashi, after all.”

Slowly, Alistair takes the wine from Hiro’s hands. Their fingers brush against one another, and Hiro inhales, and Alistair pauses, and he pulls away before either of them can concentrate too long on what it means.

“Would you believe me, if I said you’re more important. to me, than he is?” he asks. “Abigail, Robert’s daughter, is certainly more important, to him, than I am. That’s just how it works.”

Hiro furrows his brow, debating. “I guess I don’t really know what that means—for us. It still feels weird.”

Alistair doesn’t, either. It’s as though they’re in limbo, right now. They weren’t even this awkward around one another when they first met. Alistair had been polite and interactive, and it was Hiro who had behaved with disinterest. It wasn’t as though Hiro ever expected the proposal, the _marriage_.

“I know it does,” Alistair agrees, moving closer and, bravely, pulling Hiro against him. “I wish I could promise it will get better. But, I promise we’re going to try, and this is why I think therapy would be good, for you.”

“I know…” he responds, quietly. “I’m—I’m thinking about it.”

Hiro surprises himself by how easily he collapses against Alistair’s embrace. Maybe it’s the familiarity of his touch, his smell; but, no matter how challenging it remains between them, it’ll never change how right everything feels when he’s pulled close and held by his father.

“Are you going to come out?” Hiro asks, next. He tries to smile, but it’s weak. “Is the whole world going to know you’re a big, fat queer?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, softly. Hiro pulls away just a bit, and he can’t help it; he tugs at Alistair’s shirt, smoothing down the wrinkles. “Maybe one day.”

Hiro gives a small laugh. “Think they’ll make up stories about the two of us?” he wonders. “I mean, I guess they wouldn’t be _stories_.”

The smile Alistair gives Hiro borders very unsteadily between inviting and fatherly. They hold one another’s gaze for four, five seconds, and Hiro feels his heart jumping, hopeful. Maybe— _maybe—_ Alistair will lean down and pull him into a kiss. Maybe he’ll scoop him into his arms, carry him upstairs, and all of this pain and confusion will go away. 

Hiro keeps his hands against Alistair’s chest. He can feel his father’s heartbeat and every breath he takes, reassuring. And, just as Hiro allows himself to stretch onto his toes, Alistair is moving away. Hiro’s arms collapse to his side.

“I should shower.”

Hiro watches his father grab his jacket and start to move upstairs, and he can’t say the rejection hurts any differently than the rest of this, today; but, it’s the disappointment that catches him off guard. There’s a polarizing feel in the air of the penthouse, and Hiro swears the building is getting smaller, each day.

When he moves to grab his phone, there’s a text from Tadashi.

> how’s tomorrow around 2?  
>  Sent at 5:45 p.m.

He hates this; he hates everything about what is changing around him, within him. Hiro almost doesn’t want to see Tadashi, tomorrow, because that means they’ll have to say goodbye. Weeks, months without the man around him. It fucking _hurts_.

But, there are still loose ties to be settled, and Hiro thinks that, if his father had the opportunity to speak with Tadashi, then he has every right to have a conversation with Robert Callaghan. He’s certain the man has some choice words, for him, which amuses Hiro as much as it irritates him. Hiro doesn’t want to be threatened by some _old man_ , although he supposes it’s a little late, for that. It’s actually quite humiliating. Perhaps—and, really, Hiro doubts it—they’ll come to some understanding. And, if not, at least his detour will provide some amusement in his otherwise decaying reign of control.

* * *

Robert is halfway through grading finals, his reading glasses low on his nose and his third cup of coffee clenched tightly in his hand. Most of his students have done well, while a handful have done abysmal; and, when he gets to Tadashi’s, he’s prepared for it to sting. It’s not so much the lack of silly hearts drawn on corners and between text, or even the lack of innuendos hidden within the short answers. It’s the handwriting. The neat, familiar handwriting that somehow feels personal to look at, now. Robert hates how his gut wrenches and his heartbeat quickens.

Eight months ago, upon reviewing some of Tadashi’s first papers, he felt a similar reaction. It was embarrassing. _Pathetic._ A man _thrice_ his student’s age certainly had no business getting so worked up over well-formulated equations and intelligent, poised scientific theories. But, there Tadashi Hamada was in his life, sitting front row in the classroom, handsome and attentive and so willing to _learn_.

Robert delves into the paper and, although difficult, he pushes aside his personal feelings. The questions about the final chapter are pretty much all wrong, which lands Tadashi with a low B grade. When factored into the rest of the term, he’ll pass the class with an A; but, _still_ , scratching that low grade onto the front page hurts Robert more than it should.

He has to take a break, afterward. Robert puts away the papers and removes his glasses. For a long while, he sits back in his chair, eyes closed, going over his last words to Tadashi—“Have a good summer, Mr. Hamada,” he had said—and, _fuck_ , he regrets it. Impersonal. Gruff. The complete opposite of what their relationship has been, _meant_. Robert wishes he could take it back, suggest that they talk at a later time to try and work this all out.

But, it can’t be worked out, he thinks.

Tadashi despises Alistair. He’ll never see him as anything other than a child molester. He’ll never see the good parts of Alistair, as hidden as they are, and he’ll never understand what has Robert so enraptured, decades later.

It’s a fair distinction. After all, Robert doesn’t think he’ll ever understand Hiro.

And, once again, there’s _that_ , and Robert’s ignorance frightens him. He fears the reunion the may have taken place, upon Alistair’s return home, yesterday. He fears what Alistair and Hiro might be doing, at this very moment.

Robert picks up his phone and stares, half in disbelief, at Alistair’s cell number. He remembers the night they first met, when he scribbled his number on a napkin and slid it over to Alistair, who folded it into fives and slipped it into his coat pocket. He remembers, half a year later, in their cramped apartment, they owned two landlines and successfully gave off the illusion of two separate lives.

Neither of them have texted one another yet. Robert considers that neither of them want to be the first, but the temptation is there. Nothing too intense. A friendly salutation, an inquiry about one’s day. But, even as Robert considers sending that text, he finds himself hesitant. Seconds later, his concentration is lost by the harsh knocking on his office door.

Robert isn’t expecting visitors. He stands and considers the possibilities. One, it’s Tadashi, coming to apologize, or yell at him more. Two, it’s Alistair, having not been able to stay away.

It’s neither. Robert opens the door and finds himself staring at Hiro Takachiho-Krei. His hair is tussled, and his eyes are wide, and Robert doesn’t think he’s ever seen a shorter, tighter pair of shorts on a child. He refuses to stare, because, frankly, he knows that is exactly what Hiro wants.

Robert folds his arms and raises his brows. “Hiro… This is a surprise.”

At first, Hiro can feel his heart sinking, and he can’t do much else except look up at the older man. He’s taller than Hiro remembers and, on some level, it’s intimidating. Hiro hates the way Robert’s eyes narrow and his mouth stiffens, but he has a glare all his own to showcase, and he easily pushes his way into the office, defiant.

“My dad told me everything,” he begins.

Robert quickly closes the door, hoping—praying—no one saw Hiro approaching his office. That’s the last thing he needs: Various inquisitions about why the hell Alistair Krei’s stepson is visiting him, afterhours. Annoyed, Robert doesn’t hide his impatience when he stares back at Hiro.

“I’m not surprised,” he admits. “You two haven’t been much for secrets, have you?”

“No,” Hiro replies, automatic. “We haven’t. _God._ Can’t you just leave him alone? Leave _everyone_ alone? You sure did a hell of a job, leading Tadashi on, you know.”

“I’ve done no such thing. Tadashi and I have always been very clear on where our relationship stands. Stood, rather.”

“Right,” Hiro laughs out, amused. “Well, you certainly don’t deserve my father any more than you did Tadashi. I should report your decrepit ass for sleeping with a student.”

This stupid fucker, Hiro thinks. It’s not fair. He’s not even that good looking. He’s _old_ —and, not the good kind of old. Just old and boring, and Hiro abhors the idea of Alistair kissing this man, touching him.

_It hurts._

“How many times have you threatened to report your stepfather?” Robert asks. “That’s what you do, is it not? Blackmail. Conspire.”

Hiro’s subsequent laugh tells all. Robert is certain Hiro has been playing this card, for years. He’ll always be the innocent minor, not at fault in the slightest. Robert might run the risk of being fired and having his name tarnished, but both Alistair and Tadashi could face actual prison time. It’s terrifying how much control Hiro has over those two men. And, to make matters worse, he’s so _possessive._ Robert can see through his little guise, though. Hiro is scared. He’s scared of losing people, yet Robert is barely sympathetic. You can’t just waltz through life like Hiro Takachiho-Krei, seducing men and blackmailing them when they start to behave in a way you dislike.

“I’ll see whomever I choose to see, Hiro,” Robert chides, moving back toward his desk. “Frankly, it’s none of your business, and you don’t own them. They can make their own choices.”

Hiro looks shocked. It’s almost hilarious. He probably hadn’t considered Tadashi or Alistair had minds of their own. That Robert isn’t twisting their arm and forcing them to have sex.

“You’re a sad little boy,” he concludes as he sits in his desk chair, hands folded in front of him. “Grown-ups understand sex, and we know that attraction is relative. You’re too young to comprehend what sex means. So, I suggest you stop being such a little whore and go on your merry way.”

“I’m not done with you,” Hiro states. “And, believe me, I know _plenty_ about sex. You know, Tadashi may have been easy to get in bed, but we both know my father wasn’t. He fell, hard, for me. That must kill you, huh? I bet you wanted my dad to spend the rest of his life being miserable. Instead, he found me.”

Robert Callaghan is too cocky for his own damn good. Hiro sees the way the man is avoiding looking at his thighs, his waist. He doesn’t want to admit the sight of such a young, attractive boy in his office is unsettling. And, Hiro can play at that game. It’s hardly anything new. He giggles and wanders around to the older man’s side of the desk.

“Come on,” he taunts as he stretches out his legs and crosses them at the ankles, making sure his thighs rub against one another. He smiles. “You must be curious, right? About me, I mean—about what they see in me. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wondered the same about _you_.”

Like Hiro has done so many times with his father, he reaches out, grabbing the tie Robert has tucked away in his cardigan. He twists it between his fingers and leans close, watching as the man’s pupils blow wide. Robert attempts to jerk away, but Hiro doesn’t allow it; his grip tightens, and he pulls the man forward.

“Look at you,” he coos when the color rushes to Robert’s cheeks. “So flustered. _Gosh_. You really do like them young, huh?”

Robert can’t believe what he’s hearing: A fourteen year-old boy, trying to seduce him. It shouldn’t shock him—not after all he’s learned about the kid—but, feeling his touch, hearing his voice _drop_ with such expert seduction, has Robert’s chest constricting.

No wonder Tadashi and Alistair claim to have fallen, for Hiro. They probably associate their raw sexual fantasies with this type of youth. Robert stares up at Hiro, and he finally notes every sexual part about him: Puffy lips, wide eyes, thighs that barely touch. The perfect little chicken. It would be effortless to grab him and fuck him.

Robert swallows. 

He stands, then, wrenching himself away from the boy. Robert has to shake himself to remember what’s happening. Hiro is jealous. He’s a jealous child, and Robert knows how to deal with this, because he’s an adult, a _father_.

“This is ridiculous,” Robert says, sternly but shakily because he still can’t believe what Hiro is insinuating. “You are a child. I have no interest in becoming sexual with a boy whose voice has barely dropped yet.”

Which means his moans are high-pitched. His screams are shrill, and his pleads for more are noisy whines. He imagines all of what Tadashi and Alistair have heard, from him, and he feels sick. Stubbornly, he tightens his tie and straightens it.

Hiro raises a brow. “Are you jealous?” he asks, playing innocent. “Knowing ‘Dashi couldn’t stay away from me? You thought you had him all to himself, yet he couldn’t resist me… And, my dad? He may have come running back to you, but he still wants me.”

“Your stepfather’s attraction, to you, is irrelevant, now,” he tells him.

Hiro raises a brow. “You think so? Somehow, I doubt he’ll ever be able to resist me.”

“What on Earth is wrong with you?” Robert asks. “How did you get to be like this?”

There’s another giggle. Hiro follows Robert and presses a hand against his chest. When he looks up at him, he stretches on his tip toes, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You know, ‘Dashi said your cock was _huge_ ,” he whispers. His hand slides down the man’s chest, hooking at his belt and pulling. “I wonder if you’re bigger than my daddy.”

Hiro flashes a toothy grin. Robert is stiff against his touch, afraid but unwilling to move. In the next moment, Hiro’s small, eager hand is dipping into the waistband, reaching between the man’s legs and feeling the heat there. Hiro exhales through another bout of laughter, lustful and amazed.

He is big. Huge, really. Hiro can barely fit him in his palm. It’s more tempting than he expected, and Hiro presses his body fully against Robert and lets out a moan. The underside of his cock is smooth, hot.

“Gosh…” he breathes out. “Maybe you really are worth a fuck, Professor.”

Robert hisses and pushes Hiro away, but the warmth of the boy’s hand seems to stay. He feels violated, which is odd, considering he’s the adult in this situation. These words shouldn’t be coming from a fourteen year-old’s mouth. Robert thinks of the teenagers he sees at the mall, who shout and make frivolous expenses and act like children. He doesn’t understand why Hiro is different.

“You will not use me for your sick gratification,” Robert declares, sternly, and Hiro appears disbelieving.

Robert makes the final move, then. He grabs Hiro by his shirt collar and drags the boy toward the door. Hiro practically trips over his own feet.

“I am not a toy, and I’m not your stepfather.”

“Stepfather, stepfather,” Hiro echoes, glaring. “He’s my _father_.”

“No, Hiro,” Callaghan corrects; “he’s not. And, he’s never going to see _you_ as a real son, if you continue to behave like his maniacal concubine.”

Robert rips open the door and shoves Hiro into the hallway. The boy stumbles again, and Robert would feel bad, if it weren’t Hiro. It’s astounding how much Hiro thinks about himself. He must truly think Robert ruined his perfect little life. _Please_. Hiro is notorious in Robert’s dreams for being the antagonist every single time.

“Go home, Hiro,” he hisses. Then, slowly, his lips extend into a smirk. “Maybe, if I’m kind, I’ll send your _stepfather_ back, to you, tonight.”

He slams the door and waits until he hears tiny footsteps echo down the hall.

* * *

Hiro is still glowering when he gets to the dorms. He gets in while a group of students are leaving, sliding down the hall and toward Tadashi’s room. The door is cracked. Inside, Tadashi is stacking his boxes on the desk, distracted enough that he doesn’t notice Hiro until the boy is shutting the door behind him.

“Oh!” Tadashi’s expressions brightens, and he moves over to pull Hiro into a quick hug. “Hey, you. I didn’t think you’d be over so soon.”

Hiro makes a thoughtful noise, staying perfectly poised as he moves toward the bed and flops down on the mattress. He has no intention of telling Tadashi what transpired with his professor. Even if he had the energy, he certainly doesn’t want to risk ruining their last day, together.

“It’s weird, seeing your room like this,” he admits, assessing the amount of boxes. “I always thought it was weird how colleges make you move all your shit out. Like, you’re gonna be back next year. What’s the point?”

“Yeah, it is pretty silly,” he agrees as he continues to pack away some notebooks. “How was yesterday?”

“All right, I guess,” Hiro says. He traces designs on the bed sheets. “Um, my dad told me you guys talked.”

Tadashi turns back around, a wad of pencils in his hand, and almost appears guilty. “I’m surprised he told you,” he admits. “It wasn’t—we didn’t argue, surprisingly. I mean, not much.”

“I know.” Hiro shrugs. “I kind of wish I could’ve seen it.”

Now that they’re alone, Hiro feels gutted by the past twenty-four hours. He thinks how, right now, he’d be perfectly content never seeing Alistair again—just how, last night, against his father’s chest, he convinced himself he didn’t need Tadashi.

It hurts. Hiro isn’t used to choices. He certainly isn’t used to the concept anyone would actually care enough to want him around. Yet, both Alistair and Tadashi aren’t committed to their emotions, toward him. Hiro wishes he understood their intentions better.

He sighs and tries to quell the confusion by rolling onto his side and watching Tadashi tape up the final box.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Tadashi turns. “I know,” he says; but, even as he looks at Hiro, he can tell the boy is distracted. Tadashi walks over, bending down and pushing some hair behind Hiro’s ear. “Summer with you sounds really nice. I still haven’t seen all the touristy areas of the city.”

Hiro seems to brighten, at that, and Tadashi kisses his forehead. He’s really quite charming and adorable when he’s not putting on that snarky, patronizing attitude. Tadashi feels a pull on his heart and realizes, again, that he has actual feelings for this boy. They’ve shared sex and new emotions. they’ve explored this weird, unfamiliar world of romance together. Even if it’s not love, it has to mean something.

It doesn’t erase Hiro’s fears or anxieties; but, when Tadashi climbs over his body, helping sprawl out his body against the mattress, he smiles up at the older man. His heart starts to beat faster, and the boy raises his hips to feel Tadashi against him. He’s just as warm and solid as he remembers, and Hiro recalls the desperation he felt, last night, to reconnect with that need so often associated with Alistair.

God. He misses that. He misses touching Alistair, feeling him above him. When Tadashi teases at his neck, Hiro breathes in harder than he intends. It’s a strangled sort of noise. Sad and desperate, and Tadashi has enough sense in him to pull away and look down at Hiro with concern. He says something—“Is everything all right?” he wonders—and Hiro tries to keep his composure. He remembers, suddenly, how difficult it is to speak without his lips trembling when he’s upset.

“It’s, um…” Hiro adverts his gaze and squirms away from Tadashi. “You probably don’t want to hear about it. About… him.”

And, it’s painful. Painful to know Hiro doesn’t have anyone to talk to, really. Tadashi doesn’t want to hear about Alistair anymore than Alistair wants to hear about Tadashi. Hiro feels lost. Maybe he should’ve used his opportunity with Robert Callaghan to seek advice, instead of trying to fuck him.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly says. 

Tadashi nods and wraps his arms around Hiro’s waist to pull him close. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding his affair with Alistair, Hiro is old enough to feel heartbreak, and Tadashi has to remind himself of that. He buries his face in Hiro’s neck and hopes it doesn’t make the boy feel worse. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers, even though it isn’t.

Hiro is still clinging to his father, even with the promise of a real relationship. Even when Tadashi can offer him a reality and emotional support, proper dates and public kisses. Whatever connection Tadashi can give, it’s never going to stand up to what Hiro sees of his father. 

He can’t break that. Not now, anyway. Maybe not ever. 

Ultimately, whatever escape Tadashi can offer is worthless. He blinks, realizing, and nuzzles further into Hiro’s body. He can smell Hiro’s vanilla body wash. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

Hiro pulls in his lips and rolls closer to Tadashi so he can tangle their legs together. “I’m scared he’ll leave me,” Hiro admits. “They saw each other. My dad and Callaghan. It’s pretty fuckin’ obvious what happened.”

Tadashi nods. “I know,” he breathes out. “When I saw Robert, he had a bruise on his neck. He didn’t—deny it.”

Eyes closed, Hiro concentrates on how Tadashi’s fingers brush through his hair, comforting him and holding him close. It’s not unlike how Alistair held him, last night. It’s so removed from anything sexual. Parental. At least, Hiro thinks so; he doesn’t think Maemi ever comforted him like this, although he wonders, if now, she might. He wonders if Maemi would be sympathetic to his heartache with Tadashi. Letting Tadashi go… It’s not going to be easy.

“You know I care about you, too, ‘Dashi, right?”

Maybe too much.

“Yeah, I know,” Tadashi murmurs, leaning down to kiss him. First, his chin; then, his lips. Hiro immediately giggles when Tadashi’s hands seize his hips, holding him in place before the boy gets a chance to squirm back between the older man’s legs. “Fuck. I’m going to miss you.”

“You should write me letters,” Hiro suggests. “I’ve never gotten a letter in the mail before. You can tell me all about life back on the farm, and if you managed to find any other fags in that hometown of yours.”

Tadashi scoffs. “I also have this thing called a cell phone. It’s pretty advanced, actually, and I get signal all the way out in the prairie where I work the fields.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Hiro says, pouting. “I want a letter. I think that’d be fun.”

The sincerity that flashes through Hiro has Tadashi feeling guilty for even teasing him. Of course Hiro would yearn that kind of sentiment. Tadashi remembers what Krei said about Hiro never having had a friend, and it’s heartbreaking, really, to consider all the small things Hiro has missed in life. He’s probably never passed a note in class. He’s probably never gotten a postcard from someone who was traveling. Tadashi smiles down at the boy and nods.

“All right, all right,” he says. “We can write back and forth. How about that?”

“I like that!” Hiro chirps. “Yeah, let’s do that!”

They shake on it, which feels sillier than Tadashi intends, but he loves the way Hiro is glowing, now. It’s a rare look of genuine happiness—so much so that, when his small hand wanders beneath Tadashi’s shirt, caressing the skin above his hipbone and appreciating the hairline that shows just above his waistband, Tadashi doesn’t protest.

“We could have, like, goodbye sex, if you want,” Hiro murmurs, half-serious, because he’s uncertain whether Tadashi is willing to reciprocate. “I’m not asking because I think I’m, like, obligated. I—I want to be with you again, Tadashi. Before you leave.”

Tadashi’s breath catches. He wants it. He wants Hiro. He wants to be able to remember Hiro all summer: How he feels, smells, tastes. He smiles, almost shyly, as he takes Hiro’s hand and entwines their fingers. For a moment, Hiro looks as though he’s preparing for the rejection. But, when Tadashi kisses those tiny fingers and places his hand back on his waist, the boy giggles and starts to lift his hips.

“Yeah,” Tadashi agrees with an easy sigh. “I wanna feel you again, Hiro.”

Hiro nods a bit too frantically as he reaches up and grasps at Tadashi’s shirt. “I do, too, ‘Dashi.” Their lips brush against one another in between words. “Please.”

It’s addicting, having Tadashi’s mouth and hands all over him. Tadashi tries to remember just where Hiro likes to be touched, where his most sensitive spots rest and all the dirty words he loves to hear. Hiro gasps when the man bites at his neck, distracting Hiro long enough so that he can wrangle the boy out of his shorts. Tadashi’s hands cup his ass, and Hiro lets out a half-giggle, half-moan as he drags his teeth along the man’s collarbone.

His small hand reaches between Tadashi’s legs and, when the man closes his eyes, Hiro wonders what he’s thinking about. He prays it’s not Callaghan, but the consideration alone has Hiro unbuttoning Tadashi’s pants and guiding them off. He can touch Tadashi better, he thinks. He can do a lot of things better than Callaghan. And, maybe that’s not the right mindset to have, right now; not after everything with his father, with the prospect of getting _help_. But, it’s all Hiro focuses on as he wraps his hand around Tadashi’s exposed cock, stroking the hard flesh and admiring how it grows harder under his touch.

“You’re so big,” he tells him—for what has to be the hundredth time. Tadashi groans in appreciation, and Hiro snickers. “You feel so good, ‘Dashi.”

Hiro keeps working at it until he can see a bead of precome leaking out. His own cock, small and hard and twitching beneath his shorts, rubs against Tadashi’s thigh, and the older man exhales.

“Hiro…”

As much as Tadashi loves Hiro’s touches, he doesn’t want to get off on just a handjob. He halts Hiro’s hand and urges the boy further on his back. When settled, Tadashi pulls at his shorts, and he loves the way his small cock bounces upright, leaking against his stomach. Hiro is beautiful. Undeniably so, Tadashi thinks, and he guides Hiro’s wrists above his head, keeping them trapped there. It’s not dominating so much as it is a request. Tadashi slips the boy’s shirt off this way and leans down to kiss him. He practically whines against Hiro’s mouth and moves down, as quickly as he can, until his lips are on Hiro’s hipbones. 

“Good boy,” he teases when he sees Hiro’s arms still above his head. He feels Hiro shiver. “You’re beautiful, Hiro.”

He swallows Hiro, which isn’t particularly difficult but it is incredibly satisfying. Hiro is just big enough to hit the back of Tadashi’s tongue. He bobs his head and wraps his arms under Hiro’s legs so that they drape over his shoulders.

“F-Fuck… Tadashi.” Hiro gasps when the man’s tongue slides over the tip of his cock. “Jesus.”

Tadashi only moves away so he can kiss up Hiro’s chest, bite his jaw, and whisper: “I’m not going to forget about you, Hiro. Okay? I promise you.”

Hiro smiles, and Tadashi slides two fingers against Hiro’s mouth and urges him to take them. He does, sliding his tongue against the skin and wetting them completely. Tadashi looks more than satisfied. His eyes are dark, eager, and Hiro’s small legs quiver when the man reaches back down to tease his hole.

They’re both too eager, Hiro realizes; yet, neither one of them wants this to end too soon. Hiro seizes Tadashi’s mouth, pulling him close and moaning against him. They’re in just the right position so that their cocks rub together. Tadashi feels even larger in comparison. Hiro’s never felt self-conscious about himself, because he learned long ago his size was to be used to his advantage. But, having just felt Robert Callaghan, he wonders, now, if Tadashi would prefer something else. There are probably a lot of things Tadashi would prefer, from him. Callaghan tops him, after all. Hiro wishes he still had the same enthusiasm to dominate and humiliate Tadashi, but he almost feels as though he doesn’t have it in him anymore.

When Tadashi’s fingers slide inside him—starting with two, not one—Hiro gasps and shakes, pulling Tadashi closer and biting at his neck. God, it feels amazing. He rocks himself forward, taking more than Tadashi probably intends and smiles, wickedly.

“ _Shit_ ,” he pants out. “God. More. Please, ‘Dashi.”

Tadashi’s eyebrows raise, and he watches Hiro grind himself up, begging with his body. It’s enticing. Tadashi loves the way his lower-lip shines, all puffy and pink.

More. He can do more.

Tadashi kisses his way back down Hiro’s body with his fingers still inside and watches Hiro’s expression. He seems to like where this is going, if his bitten lip is any indication. Tadashi kisses around his cock and down his thigh, toward his fingers, and Hiro gasps.

First, he tastes his own fingers. Teasing. The tip of his tongue brushes Hiro’s skin and circles him, and he’s probably not very good at this, but he’s willing to learn. Tadashi shuts down the part of his mind that says this is more than a little strange and, instead, just does it. His tongue slides into Hiro, alongside his fingers, and it’s warm, wet.

Hiro loves it. Tadashi’s tongue feels amazing, and the man’s breath is escaping his mouth and nostrils, hitting Hiro’s thighs and making him shiver. It’s so _good._ Tadashi’s enthusiasm almost has Hiro giggling. He thinks back to when he first asked the man if he’s ever tried this; Tadashi had tried so hard to keep his composure, acting disinterested and uncurious about the act.

Tadashi pushes his tongue as far as it will go, and Hiro starts to thrash. His moans grow louder; so loud, in fact, that Tadashi actually breaks away to shush him, kissing at his thigh and soothing Hiro down from the euphoria.

“Please, fuck me,” Hiro begs. His legs are still shaking, but he manages to move them over Tadashi’s shoulders, spreading himself wide. “You feel so good. Please.”

He throws his head back, half-laughing as he marvels in how fucking good it all feels, right now. He doesn’t want to think about how this could very well be the last time he ever feels Tadashi’s touch. Hiro pulls Tadashi back up, seizing the man’s mouth and tasting himself on his lips.

“Please,” he repeats. “‘Dashi, I want you inside me.”

Tadashi reaches into the pillowcase to find his lube and spreads it against his fingers. He’s given easy access between Hiro’s legs, applying just enough before he starts to press the tip of his cock against the boy’s entrance. Neither of them break eye contact as they moan.

“I—God, Tadashi, please.”

Tadashi nods. Christ, he’s been waiting for this ever since the last time he pulled out of Hiro’s body. He sees Hiro’s brows furrow in frustration. He kisses Hiro, and he completely forgets his pacing as he sinks down inside him. The warmth and tightness surround him, and his head drops to Hiro’s tiny shoulder. He feels so small under him.

“Feel—good?” Tadashi asks, brushing away some of the hair from Hiro’s face.

When Hiro nods, Tadashi starts to rock his hips. He keeps forgetting how hard it is to not just go for it, because just the feeling of being inside Hiro is enough to get him off eventually. So he waits, going slow, groaning at the subtle but pleasurable torture. 

Then, he grips Hiro’s hair and pulls the boy’s head to the side so he can start making marks on his neck. Hiro is tense and limp all at once, completely vulnerable to Tadashi’s mouth.

“Tadashi… Fuck, _please_.”

The man is taking his time, but he’s not being entirely gentle, which has Hiro mewling and clutching at his shoulders. He hopes he can remember this sensation forever. He hates that he’s already forgetting what it’s like to have Alistair inside of him. Hiro whimpers and pulls himself into Tadashi’s neck, trying not to let the realization of all that he’s losing tear him apart.

It never occurred, to Hiro, that he would have to mourn not having his father all to himself, that he couldn’t just move on and replace him with another man. And, Tadashi… _God_. Hiro wishes he could go back and pinpoint the moment everything got out of hand with him. When did he stop seeing Tadashi as a pawn? When did he start to initiate interaction out of genuine want and not obligation? Maybe he had been kidding himself the whole time.

“Harder.”

Tadashi groans and waits for Hiro’s expression to soften. “Yeah?” he asks, making sure.

Hiro nods. He can already feel the man’s precome leaking inside of him, hot and thick, and his own cock is twitching between their bodies. He doesn’t need any further stimulation, though. He knows he’s going to come just from being fucked, hard and raw. Tadashi seems to sense just how depraved Hiro’s thoughts are, because his pace increases, and he repeats the boy’s name in a heated, desperate tone.

Hiro wishes he could say something more definitive, to Tadashi, in this moment. He wishes he could say, “I love you.” He considers it. He gasps and moans and clings hard, trying to find those authentic sentiments he knows exist, somewhere. But, it’s too heavy—and, truthfully, Hiro can’t convince himself it’s even real. He wonders if he’s even capable of love. If he is, Hiro certainly has no idea where that emotion lies between the lust and the manipulation.

The slow tears are already falling when Tadashi moves to kiss his face, calming him. It’s strange, Hiro thinks, how he sort of wishes this was already over. He’s dreading their goodbye. Dreading Tadashi’s absence and the loss of his touch. Hiro may not know what love feels like, but he’s starting to understand what it feels like to have a broken heart.

“God, _Hiro_ …”

Tadashi’s body shakes as he stays positioned inside of Hiro, spilling inside of him and grabbing onto his small body. For a long while, they just stay still, embracing each other and catching their breaths.

Eventually, Hiro speaks. “I’m gonna miss this,” he says, honestly. “Gosh.”

They both groan when Tadashi pulls out. He grabs a wad of tissues from the desk and uses them to clean up Hiro, and it grows quiet again. Hiro does his best not to let the heaving of his breath indicate his emotions, but it’s impossible. Tadashi only holds him closer and, soon, they’re dozing off.

“What time do you need to be home?” Tadashi asks, sleepily.

Hiro moans against Tadashi’s shoulder. “I have a while,” he promises.

* * *

It’s dark out when Hiro wakes back up. Next to him, Tadashi is still sound asleep. He watches the older man—analyzing his features, catching how his chest rises and falls from his breathing—and tries not to get too caught in how intense the pull is toward Tadashi. 

They could be happy, Hiro considers. Hiro can’t quite comprehend how the four year age difference would actually affect their relationship; but, he thinks, once a few years pass, it wouldn’t even be an issue. They’d be normal, really. Hiro isn’t used to normal. Maybe that’s why this scares him so much.

When Hiro shifts, so does Tadashi. Their eyes meet, both hesitant, and Hiro goes cold.

“I… should go,” he whispers. He starts to move out of the bed, collecting his clothes and pulling them back on. He tries not to concentrate on how Tadashi’s eyes follow him. “When do you leave, tomorrow?”

“Around three.” Tadashi feels a little dead, and it’s not just from their nap. “My aunt’s coming to pick me up.”

Hiro wishes he could meet Tadashi’s aunt. He wonders what she’s like, how Tadashi will react upon seeing her. They’re probably so much alike without even noticing, and Hiro imagines the endless conversations on the long drive home. Will Tadashi talk all about the past two semesters? Will he talk, fondly, about Professor Callaghan, omitting all the details that resurrect the pain and embarrassment Hiro caused? Will he even mention Hiro?

“That’s such a long drive,” Hiro ponders, pulling on his shoes.

Tadashi swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches to find his pants. Hiro isn’t looking at him. Almost like he’s refusing. Tadashi feels his throat go dry, and he moves to pull Hiro’s tiny frame closer. He can feel Hiro’s eyelashes against his chest, and they aren’t wet, which is surprising. He just holds the boy, enjoying and savoring the warmth he provides.

“You can text me,” he says, softly. “Any time you want, okay? Call me, too. I promise I’ll always answer.”

The words sound hollow; but, then again, so does everything else. Eventually, they pull apart and finish getting dressed.

“I’m—serious about the letters,” Hiro then says. There’s a weak smile as he moves to straighten out Tadashi’s shirt. He thinks about how many times he’s done the very same to Alistair. It’s oddly comforting. “I just… I want to see something with your handwriting.”

It’ll feel more comforting than a text message, or a phone call. More real. Hiro could hold something in his hands that Tadashi did, too. He narrows his gaze, taken aback by his own sentimentality.

“Yeah, of course,” Tadashi says. “I said I would. I mean it.”

Hiro pushes himself against Tadashi’s chest, embracing him. He tries, in the last moment, to memorize Tadashi’s scent and how solid he feels against him. Hiro realizes, then, that he’s never felt the need to say goodbye, to anyone—not even his mother. 

He doesn’t want to let go of Tadashi.

“It’ll be okay,” Tadashi promises, running his hands down Hiro’s back. “It’s just three months. It’ll fly by, I promise.”

Hiro closes his eyes but only because he doesn’t want to risk the tears forming. “I hope so,” he whispers.

When they pull away, Hiro is immediately swarmed by an intense, unwavering sorrow. Tadashi drags his grip down Hiro’s arm, squeezing his wrist and hands. He can see the hope in Hiro’s eyes as much as he can see the pain. 

Hiro wants him to say it. Tadashi wishes he could.

“Stay strong, okay?”

“Yeah,” Hiro replies, and he starts to move. “Bye, Tadashi. Have—a safe trip.”

As he leaves, Hiro shuts the door behind him. His heart is heavy, yet his entire being feels remarkably empty.

He regrets not taking one last look at Tadashi. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have stuck with us through this journey. We’ve so appreciated all the kind words and sentiments.

Robert can still feel Hiro’s touch on his body.

It’s vile. It’s _disgusting._ It makes him feel dirty, but the guilt that is swarming him is paralyzing. Robert doesn’t want to think about it. He certainly doesn’t want to continue _feeling_ that juvenile touch the way he has for the past hour. But, it’s all he _can_ think about. Tiny fingers. A small, warm palm. That horrifying smirk painted across the boy’s lips.

An expert.

Men fold to Hiro’s touch and words, and Alistair is one of them. As familiar as that notion is, to Robert, it’s the experience he just faced that reminds him how _real_ the intimacy is between father and son. And, he’s ashamed. Ashamed of the blind eye he’s turned in favor of his own desires. A lost romance he’s held onto for so many years, buried away but never forgotten. The questions he had asked weren’t intrusive, and Alistair had admitted guilt in between the excuses, but—

_—but, is it enough?_

The damage may be done, but there’s no telling where the lingering effects begin and end. Alistair is in love with his own son, and the confrontation Robert just faced with Hiro has proven just how obsessive and unhealthy that relationship remains. It’s only going to get worse, now that Tadashi is leaving, and something has to give. 

_Something has to give._

By four o’clock, Robert leaves SFIT for the final time of the school year. As he advances toward his car, he works up enough courage to text Alistair, insisting they need to talk. But, before he can wait for a response, he shuts off his phone and heads for Krei Tech.

He thinks about Tadashi, about Hiro. He thinks about the relationship between the two and what it means—if anything—and how _ugly_ his last encounter with Tadashi ended. It hurts him. Those curt words and defensive glares represented nothing of what they shared over the school year. Robert doesn’t want to remember Tadashi like that over the summer, but it’s too late, he thinks. There will be no easy text conversations in the next three months. There will be no post cards from New York City that Robert will send Tadashi.

It’ll be radio silence until September.

At Krei Tech, The receptionist is all smiles and pleasantries. She even stands to greet him, and it’s clear the young woman recognizes him—either from the other day, or just in general—because she happily explains Alistair is expecting him and that signing into the visitors log is unnecessary. Robert doubts she knows anything about his history with her boss, but he swears her smile suggests she’s far more aware than should be possible.

Unlike his previous visit, Robert feels the intimidation of the building. It’s the elevator ride to the top floor that has his palms sweating, and he’s reminded, yet again, of the empire Alistair has built, since they went separate ways. Krei Tech isn’t just another starter tech company, and the numbers in Alistair’s bank account aren’t just a fluke. He’s a billionaire; his company, a household name. It doesn’t even seem possible that Robert knew Alistair before this was all a reality.

The secretary outside Alistair’s office is on the phone, when he arrives. He’s uncertain how to proceed, and he stands there with more nerves than he cares to admit. It isn’t until the large office doors open—engraved, neatly, with the Krei Tech logo—that Robert relaxes. And, he wonders, then, why seeing Alistair standing there in his expensive, gorgeous suit is so comforting when it should be anything but. 

Both smiles comes easy, for them, and Alistair ushers him inside. Robert isn’t surprised to find the man’s office even more impressive than the lobbies. It’s large and well-lit, and the view of the city is distracting enough to have Robert advancing toward the windows. He can see SFIT perfectly.

“It’s been a long couple of days,” Robert admits, softly.

Alistair shuts the door. “I know,” he agrees. “I wasn’t sure whether I should—call you. Or, text you. But, I’m glad you’re here, Robert.”

The strain and uncertainty is present. Alistair crosses his arms and looks at the older man as he gazes out the window, momentarily distracted. It almost feels wrong to stare so longing at Robert Callaghan. Like he’s not allowed. And, perhaps, on some level, he’s not. It’s unfair, considering Hiro is the one who has been most prevalent on his mind.

“Have you heard from Hiro, today?” Robert then asks, turning back to face Alistair.

“No. But, we haven’t exactly been texting much. Why?”

“He paid me a visit.”

Alistair knows the look that sweeps across Robert’s face. It’s not quite betrayal, but it’s bordering on that, and it’s accompanied by some level of sadness. Maybe even disgust. Alistair is more scared than he’d like to admit, right now.

“I take that to mean you didn’t get along,” he mumbles, attempting to lighten the mood. He circles his desk and leans against the edge. “I’m sure he wasn’t very pleasant, to you.”

Why would he be? In his eyes, Robert is the man who stole his father. Robert is the one who took everything away. Of course he’d be bitter, of course he’d approach the man with complaints. He has everything to complain about.

“No, he wasn’t pleasant,” Robert agrees, but it’s not exactly true. Hiro paid plenty of compliments to the man’s dick. “But, his manners are not the issue. I can handle a moody teenager’s jealousy. What I can’t handle, Alistair, is him trying to seduce me.”

As unsurprising as those words are to hear, it doesn’t change how Alistair’s heartbeat stutters. He feels his entire body go cold, just picturing it. Knowing, full well, where it would’ve gone had Robert not stopped it.

“He was not subtle,” Robert continues. “Pressing himself against me. Touching me. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate.”

“No,” Alistair says, curtly. “You don’t.”

Somehow, that disturbs Robert more than remembering how small Hiro’s hand felt against his cock, how proficiently he teased and stroked and batted his eyelashes; because, _yes_ , Alistair knows all about his son. He doesn’t just allow Hiro to touch him; he touches Hiro back. He climbs over that small body, spreads Hiro’s legs and fucks him. His own son. A fourteen year-old boy.

“For Christ’s sake, Al,” Robert heaves, exasperated. He moves closer to the younger man, catching his gaze. “Children don’t just wake up, one day, acting like that. He’s been that way for _how many_ years, now? Have you ever stopped to think there might be something much worse going on with him than having just watched his mother behave like a whore? And, _what_? Instead, you decided it was fair game and fucked him?”

He’s not gentle with his words, nor tone. But, it’s an eruption of his own frustrations that he’s left behind. The night he and Alistair spent together was an escape; but, as perfect as that paradise had been, it wasn’t meant to last forever. It wasn’t meant to push aside the reality of their lives and mistakes. One way or another, Robert has to understand this affair. 

“Just—why?” he asks. “Why did you ever think any of it was okay?”

“It’s complicated,” Alistair insists, quickly. Defensively. “I am at plenty of fault, yes, but there’s more to it than a simple upbringing. He was—Christ, Robert…”

Alistair moves to collapse in his desk chair and chooses to ignore that Robert is standing tall above him. He deserves to be looked down upon, anyway.

“His mother…” he quietly restarts. “It wasn’t just the neglect. He’s not just emulating what he saw. Maemi made him behave that way, Robert. She… She forced men on him.”

There’s a deafening silence, then. Alistair’s eyes are closed, and he attempts to contain how his legs are shaking. Robert just stares. He should’ve expected that. After all, most children end up like Hiro after years of abuse, and he knows enough about the socialite life to understand how Maemi made a name for herself, how she likely sought Alistair Krei out and found a way to work herself closer toward the man. Having a child to tote alongside her should’ve been crippling to her reputation. Instead, she found a way to utilize her son. Robert feels sick.

“Did you always know that?” he decides to ask. It’s fruitless, though. Even if he didn’t, it doesn’t change Alistair’s behavior. You don’t just give into temptation because it’s obtainable. “He’s fourteen, Al. I still know you well enough to know you’re not a pedophile. So, why?”

Was he really that miserable, pretending to be straight? Did he actually lose sight of the fact it was a child attempting to seduce him, all because he had spent half his life living a lie? Robert can see the guilt and shame on Alistair’s face. It’s genuine. At least, Robert prays he can still read the man well enough to recognize deceit. His sympathy is there, but the problem, Robert thinks, is that Alistair continues to allow Hiro’s behavior, continues to allow them all to think it’s normal. Tadashi may just be a few years older, but he’s still an adult. Hiro isn’t capable of handling a relationship with anyone—not after years of trauma, abuse. 

When Alistair stays silent, Robert then asks: “Has he ever tried to talk about it?”

“I’ve asked,” he admits. “He’s nonchalant. Detached. It first happened when he was eleven.”

Robert curses under his breath and turns away. “Christ…” he exhales.

“I’m not entirely unconvinced she didn’t know about me and Hiro,” Alistair admits; “or, that I wasn’t even interested in her, at all. Sometimes, I wish I had just asked.”

“I guess I can’t blame him for seeming so well-adjusted after her death.”

If the way Alistair stiffens is noticeable, Robert certainly doesn’t react. He keeps his gaze low. Robert doesn’t need to know about Maemi. He _can’t._ They would never be able to fix anything, if that was on the record. And, the panic is so immediate that Alistair has to rise from his chair and pace, because _no, no, no_.

But, of course, the questions ensue.

“Was she on something?” Robert theorizes. “Heroin?”

There had been autopsy, he recalls. It had come back inconclusive, but the speculation was all the same. After all, a young thirty-something’s heart doesn’t just stop without proper reason, and drugs are always the most plausible conclusion, especially given her socialite status.

A drug addict and her son’s pimp… Robert feels winded the knowledge. Men, touching Hiro. Groping at him. Abusing him. The kid can barely handle a consensual, age-appropriate relationship with Tadashi. How the _hell_ did he manage all that abuse?

“I’m sorry,” Robert rushes out. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” Alistair says. His voice breaks. “God, Robert, you should have—you don’t know what he was like, back then. I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to be a father, to him, because I saw how Maemi neglected him. But, he—he was so desperate. I guess I just wanted to fix that, but…”

Alistair looks disgusted with himself, with the memories. His heart is clearly breaking for the boy, including what he has put him through, but Robert’s sympathy is fractured. What Alistair did was wrong. Immoral. It’s a miracle Robert doesn’t hate him based entirely on those actions.

“He needs help, Al,” Robert says. “Professional help. He can’t continue doing these things. He’s hurting both himself and other people.”

“I—I know that,” he replies. “I’ve started looking. But, it’s not that easy.”

Finally, Robert touches the younger man. He reaches out, caressing Alistair’s face and offering a gentle gaze.

“Of course it’s not. But, if being his father really means that much, to you, then... Help him.”

Because Alistair still hasn’t committed to letting Hiro go. The pull is too strong and, while Robert doesn’t understand it—frankly, he _resents_ it—having Hiro in his life means something, to Alistair. And, not much has ever meant anything, to Alistair Krei.

“Try to make this right,” he tells him.

Alistair covers Robert’s hand with his own. “That feels impossible, right now.” The patience is waning on Robert’s expression, and Alistair is quick to elaborate. “Hiro doesn’t have anything else on his mind other than Tadashi. He’s going to beg him to come back. And, that stupid twink of yours is so eager to please that he’ll probably do it—even though he doesn’t feel an ounce of love for my son.”

“Tadashi isn’t cruel,” Robert defends, gently.

“Perhaps not,” the man agrees; “but, Hiro doesn’t need that distraction. Love letters. Phone calls. A promise of a relationship we both know would never last. Another broken heart is the last of what Hiro should worry about.”

“What do you expect me to do about that?” 

It’s Alistair who loses his patience, then. “I don’t know, Robert!” he shouts, and he pulls away from the touch. “Tell him to back off! Distract him! _Christ_. Bring him with you to New York, if it keeps his mind occupied on something other than my son.” 

Robert stares back at Alistair, silent.

He doesn’t know if he actually has that kind of control. Tadashi has become wildly attached, to Hiro. He wouldn’t stay away, even when Robert advised him. There’s a reason this all got so out of control, and Alistair knows it, too. Maybe it’s not love that the two boys share, but it’s an attachment; and, somewhere deep down, Robert has already suspected as much from Tadashi. It’s likely he’ll will spend two, maybe three weeks with his aunt before finding his way back to San Fransokyo. All for Hiro. He’s determination stems deeper than his own protectiveness, for the boy; Tadashi probably thinks he needs to rescue Hiro from Alistair. It’s commendable, Robert acknowledges, but perhaps unnecessary. No one else would understand. Robert is still having trouble accepting the fact Alistair didn’t act out with malicious intent.

“I can’t just… take him with me to New York,” he continues, carefully. “I have Abigail, and lectures over the summer, and—it’s not like he would want to come with me, anyway. He’s furious with me.”

That can change, though. A simple apology. An acknowledgement of how unreasonable he has been since Tadashi met Hiro. How unreasonable he’s been since the beginning, really, when it comes to expressing his feelings and the context of their relationship.

Both Alistair and Robert know what it all would mean, in the end. If Robert takes Tadashi away, their relationship may very well start up again. It means Alistair will lose Robert, yet again. Is that really worth it—for Hiro? Is Alistair truly willing to let Robert go, too, in order for Hiro to get better?

“What if he says no?”

Alistair just laughs, almost humorlessly. Hollow. As if Tadashi would ever reject the offer. If anything, the idea of being whisked away by his professor just to spite Alistair is more than enough to jump aboard the plan.

“You aren’t going to get anywhere with him, if you don’t try,” Alistair offers. “You two seemed to have a pretty good thing going before—all this started. It’s not too late, for you, either.”

The words sting more than they should, but Alistair knows his first love cares about that teenager far more than he’s willing to divulge. He imagines this is what Robert must feel in regard to Hiro, and it’s confusing, at times. A misplaced jealousy. A bizarre unhappiness.

It doesn’t matter. Hiro’s health comes first, and Tadashi being as far away as possible is a bonus. He’ll have a good time with Robert. He’ll come without a second thought, and Alistair knows it.

“He leaves tomorrow, doesn’t he?” Alistair asks after several moments of silence. “Call him. Ask him over. Please, Robert. If he comes back here, he’s going to try to save Hiro himself, and he can’t. You and I both know that.”

“It’s possible that… you can’t, either. For the same reasons.”

Robert knows it hurts Alistair to hear. But, it needs to be said. Can Alistair really control himself around Hiro? Hiro certainly won’t give up—especially without Tadashi around. He’ll want to resume where they left off, and Robert isn’t convinced Alistair has enough willpower to say no. If he did, he never would’ve touched Hiro in the first place.

Alistair exhales, long and tired. “I need to try. Please.”

“Listen,” Robert says, grabbing the man’s hands again and forcing them to look at one another; “I don’t regret what happened between us, but we need to figure out what it means. I never thought we’d ever speak again; yet, here we are… If seeing Tadashi and spending the summer with him is going to risk a possible—future, then I need to know where we stand, Al.”

It’s difficult. Robert still isn’t certain what he feels, for Tadashi. And, for the most part, he knows it doesn’t matter. They would never last. They already failed at being casual, and it’s not as if attempting to mend their relationship doesn’t come with heavy consequences. 

“I don’t want to have to let you go again,” Alistair admits. After a moment, he lets out a soft, timid laugh. “But, maybe I’m starting to understand parental responsibilities.”

Choices versus priorities. He has Hiro, his beautiful son who needs professional help and a real father figure. And, he has Robert, who is set squarely between being an old flame and the love of his life. It’d be monstrously unfair, Alistair thinks, if Hiro’s health weren’t so important. Hiro never asked for any of this; that boy didn’t attract trauma. He was forced into something and dragged by his mother around the city so he could be used and exploited. Alistair needs to think about him, first.

Not himself, not Tadashi, not Robert.

_Only Hiro._

He finds himself nodding, even though he feels numb and unable to make movements. But, he fights through the feeling and grabs the back of Robert’s neck to pull them together into a kiss. Even though they’ve rekindled something, it still feels surreal to have Robert’s lips on his own again. It feels even stranger to cry into a kiss.

“I can’t let you go forever,” he whispers, touching their foreheads together. “I never could.”

Alistair falls into Robert’s arms and waits for the moment of safety to end. He can’t force himself to move away, though. He just clings, face buried in Robert’s shoulder.

“I love you,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry I let you down. I love you.”

“It’s okay, Al,” Robert breathes out, holding the younger man as he tries to reassure himself this won’t be forever, that he won’t have to go another couple of decades without feeling Alistair against him. Another couple of decades without hearing _those words_ again. “I love you, too. This is all going to be okay.”

It’s not forever. It can’t be, because they’ll both go crazy if he has to go through this a second time. Losing Alistair was the single most painful moment of his life. More painful than letting Abigail move across the country. More painful than watching his wife grow sick and pass away. More painful than realizing, even now, how little control he has over what Alistair feels toward his fourteen year-old stepson.

When they finally pull apart, Alistair has tears in his eyes, and he imagines that, in any other lifetime, this moment wouldn’t exist. A lot wouldn’t exist, including Hiro. He’ll never be able to decide if that would be for the better.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Robert whispers, knowing, now, this is a goodbye, for the summer. “I’ll send you photos while I’m over there… I’ll even let you know how those Krei Tech stores are holding up on the East Coast.”

Alistair scoffs. “Spare me the tourist photos.”

They embrace, once more. It’s tighter, this time; more emotional. Alistair nearly loses his balance, and they share another laugh as their lips meet.

“Take care of yourself, Al,” he whispers; “and, take care of Hiro, too.”

* * *

It’s well after nine o’clock when Hiro hears his father come home. Alistair should’ve been home hours ago—should’ve already been home when _Hiro_ got home—and, despite the boy’s best efforts to dismiss the desperations of wanting to know what has kept his father, Hiro still fears to ask. And, he shouldn’t be so anxious—or jealous, or concerned—but, the worries are too deep, and Hiro clenches his fist around the knitted blanket on the couch, unable to voice a greeting.

“I should’ve texted,” Alistair says, quietly. He throws down his suit jacket. “I wasn’t certain whether you’d be home, though.”

Hiro turns his head, briefly making eye contact with his father, before he rolls over and stuffs his face into one of the pillow cushions. His hair is still damp from his shower, and Hiro thinks he probably looks like some wet, sad puppy as he lies there, motionless. Hiro feels weak. He doesn’t think he can even bring himself to go upstairs to his bedroom.

He supposes this is heartache. He’s spent a majority of his hours alone, rereading his text conversations with Tadashi, all the way from the beginning. It all feels so hollow, now. Hiro wonders if Tadashi saved all the photos he sent, to him. Will he look at them, during the summer? Will he stare at them at odd hours of the night, losing himself in fantasies of their time together? Hiro doesn’t have a single photo of Tadashi, aside from the one showcasing his bruised face. He feels pathetic, asking for one. He hopes he can find a couple from the expo, last month. It’d be nice, he thinks, to have a photo of how Tadashi looked on the day they met.

“Do you want something to eat?” Alistair then asks. He approaches the couch with caution. “It’s late, but we can still order in, if you’d like…”

Alistair doesn’t know how else to start this conversation. They’ve been so rocky, so confused, that the idea of having a real discussion about Hiro’s health seems outlandish. But, he’s the father. He’s more than just a figurehead, at this point. Hiro doesn’t have anyone else. 

Slowly, he sits on the couch near Hiro’s hips, which pins the boy between the cushions and Alistair’s body. He reaches out and brushes away the hair from Hiro’s face. It’s wet, and Alistair knows, if he leans down, he’ll be able to smell that rich vanilla shampoo.

“I’m not really that hungry,” Hiro says, closing his eyes against his father’s touch. “Where were you?”

Alistair can conjure up a million excuses for his tardiness. A late meeting. Some kind of late minute contract that needed drafting. He could even bend the truth a little and say he was busy talking with Honey Lemon, who had, indeed, kept him for several minutes before she left, bashfully handing over a collection of makeup samples, for Hiro.

But, nothing is ever going to change if they continue lying to one another.

“I was with Robert,” he answers, steadily. When Hiro visibly deflates, he corrects it. “Just talking, Hiro. There was a lot that needed to be said.”

His voice is uncomfortably methodical. Hiro barely recognizes it. 

“Oh, Father, you’re far too good, for him,” Hiro murmurs. “He’s not very nice, you know.”

Alistair doesn’t know whether it’s Hiro’s attempt at humor until he catches the boy’s reserved smile. In return, Alistair chuckles and allows his fingers to run down Hiro’s cheek. It’s soft. _So fucking soft;_ and, God, he’s going to miss this sensation. He’s going to miss, so desperately, the way Hiro looks at him with that light in his eyes. He’s near emotionless, right now. Alistair decides it’s better left unsaid that Robert informed him about the boy’s visit. The last thing they need, right now, is a discussion that will inevitably shame Hiro for his behavior.

“I brought you something,” Alistair then says, reaching for his briefcase. He pulls out the bag Honey Lemon gave him and hands it over, to Hiro. The boy slowly rises and sits on his knees. “They’re from Honey Lemon. She thought you might like them.”

Hiro reaches into the bag and examines the small collection of samples. Mostly different brands of concealer; but, there’s also some eye shadow and blush. Hiro opens the blush palette and swipes his finger across a light shade.

“Is she _trying_ to encourage me to be the biggest fag in San Fransokyo?” he wonders. “It’s, uh—nice of her, though. Thanks, I guess.”

“I’ll give her your regards.”

Hiro places the bag on the coffee table and settles against the couch. It’s silent, then, for a brief moment, and Alistair hates how much he can’t stop thinking about how their thighs are touching.

“I started looking at some therapists,” Alistair tells him. “I may have found one. She’s well-regarded, and she specializes in your behavior.”

Hiro scoffs, humorlessly. “Behavior…”

“If you’ll let me,” Alistair continues; “I’d like to make sure you’re healthy. You can’t be feeling too great, right now, after saying goodbye, to Tadashi.”

Hiro wonders at what point his father started referring to Tadashi by his first name. It’s a curious thing, and the way the man is speaking so methodically makes Hiro feel a million times smaller than he should. Alistair sounds like a parent.

He makes a move which is bordering on fatherly, though anything between them remains questionable, regardless. Alistair cups Hiro’s cheek and, once more, brushes his thumb along Hiro’s skin.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asks.

This is so goddamn hard. It’ll be harder living in the same house. Robert, at least he’s leaving, going across the country and making a clean break. Hiro is here. He’s always going to be here, and his intentions and desires are going to be made clear.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hiro murmurs.

Alistair exhales and attempts to pull Hiro up so that the boy is on his knees. “Of course it matters,” he says. “You’re upset he’s gone. You’re allowed to feel that way, Hiro. I’m not going to tell you otherwise.”

It’s easy—too easy—for Hiro to fall against his father, then. He knows he must appear desperate. But, all he can do is bury his face in Alistair’s chest and try not to let the tears overwhelm him.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Hiro whispers. “Nothing feels right. Everything just _hurts_.”

Incredibly so, Hiro thinks. He can physically feel his body aching from Tadashi’s absence, and it hasn’t even been a day. He must be so pathetic. But, he feels remarkably comforted as Alistair brings him closer and rubs at his back. It’s gentle. Kind. And, maybe it’s not the right move to make, but Hiro is climbing into his father’s lap, desperate to be held.

Hiro would love to be kissed, to be held. He’d certainly love to feel his father’s hands on his waist, caressing the skin there as they exchange whispers. 

Is that really all over? Are they never going to share those passionate moments again? Hiro’s lower lip trembles, and he stifles a sob.

“It’s not forever,” Alistair tells to assure him. “He’ll be back, and you’ll have had time to yourself, by then. Things are better this way, Hiro. I promise.”

Hiro doesn’t know how convinced he is of that assessment. Not when he so desperately misses his father, too.

“I don’t know if I can manage not having this, with you,” he admits. “I—need you.”

It’s dangerous; but, right now, Alistair is certain Hiro isn’t going to do anything beyond ask for comforting touches. So, he holds Hiro—tight and secure—and tries to make the action as platonic as possible. But, it’s a challenge. Nothing has ever been platonic, not even the fake story they put on for the press.

It’s not as though Alistair cannot imagine not having this with Hiro. It kills him to even consider it. He knows it’s the right thing to do, but he also knows it’s going to cause him physical pain every night they don’t fall asleep holding each other. And, every moment when they could be kissing, could be touching, is going to be spent trying to ignore that pull between them.

“I’m still here,” he reminds his son. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? And, whatever time you spend apart from Tadashi is going to be good, for you. You’ll start to heal. And, maybe after the summer, you’ll have a different perception on your relationship with him.”

They didn’t even meet under the right circumstances. The beginning of their relationship was a complete lie that turned into something else. Until Hiro learns that he needs to build relationships on something genuine, he won’t understand that he’s capable of falling and staying in love.

Hiro tries not to let his voice crack. “But—but, what if he finds someone else?”

Alistair is grateful Hiro isn’t looking at him. The stiffness in his expression is evident. He thinks about Robert and the time he will spend with Tadashi over the summer. They’ll visit museums and share late brunches, and Robert will probably bring him to the East Village to indulge mostly himself in teaching Tadashi about gay history. They’ll inevitably have sex and probably share the same bed for weeks upon weeks. And, it’s possible their feelings toward one another will intensify. It’s possible Tadashi will fall in love with Robert. 

“If he moves on from you while you’re trying to get help, he’s not worth your time,” Alistair states, gruffly. “I’ll help you through whatever you need. I’m not going to forget what we were, Hiro… That’s—that’s still important, to me, even if—”

_—even if it was wrong._

“Aren’t you scared?” Hiro asks, quietly. He pulls away enough so that they can look at one another. “About me talking to someone, I mean. I can’t tell them about us.”

Hiro doesn’t know a lot about how therapy works, but he’s heard enough to know confidentiality is not always guaranteed. Hiro will have to talk in code, the same way he did when he first met Tadashi.

“I know… I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about that,” he admits. “But, I’m not going to ask you not to, Hiro.”

Hiro frowns. “They’d report you, if I did. I won’t. I don’t care if I have to make up some story. I’m not going to tell them the entire truth.”

Alistair hesitates, and he debates if that fabrication is just going make the sessions pointless. Silently, he pulls Hiro back toward him, and Hiro can feel his own breath circling the man’s neck. He wants to kiss him. He wants to whisper alluring words and be rewarded with gentle touches. But, there are boundaries, now. Hiro wonders if it’s still okay for them to sleep in the same bed. He hates sleeping alone. The past few nights have been agonizing. There’s no warmth to curl up to, no soft breathing that reminds him he’s safe with another presence.

“Do you really think it’s even worth getting help?” Hiro asks. “What if I’m just a lost cause?”

Alistair takes a risk and kisses the top of Hiro’s head. “You’re not a lost cause,” he says. “You’re not to blame for what’s happened, to you. You’re my son, Hiro, and I’m going to make sure you’re okay. I meant it when I told you I love you.”

Hiro doesn’t mean to, but he whimpers when Alistair’s lips touch his forehead. They’re warm, familiar, and there’s some stubble on his chin,. Tadashi doesn’t look at Hiro the way Alistair is, right now. No one probably ever will. And, as gruesome as the realization is that they will likely never make this work, Hiro is starting to recognize only his father might ever love him this fully, this unconditionally. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. The words take a monumental weight off of Hiro, just in the seconds they fall from his lips. “I’m sorry I hurt you. All those things I said, to you. All the things I did, just to get a reaction. It wasn’t fair, and I really am sorry.”

Hiro wishes he could offer more than just an apology. He wishes a lot of things, really. Under ideal circumstances, Hiro would’ve been able to press against Tadashi Hamada and whisper words he never thought he was capable of saying—“I love you,” he would’ve said, quiet and sad and sincere—but, Hiro doesn’t know those authenticity of those words

He doesn’t understand much about love. He certainly doesn’t understand the consequences of those emotions. 

But, he’s trying; and, he thinks, one day, he might understand more of what he feels for everyone, including his father.

“I’m sorry too,” Alistair breathes out, and Hiro feels too light and too heavy in his arms at the same time. “We’re going to make this right.”

Alistair hopes to God he can keep that promise.

* * *

Tadashi gets the text from Robert almost an hour after Hiro has left. It’s late. It’s _dark_ out. And, other than the sweats he’s wearing and the outfit he has for tomorrow, all his belongings are packed. Tadashi stares at this phone—unconvinced, at first—and tries to decipher exactly how he feels. He didn’t think he’d hear from Robert until next semester. He had expected the summer months to be met by silence, even if Tadashi had found the courage to send his own message.

But, it’s more than just a simple hello. It’s more than an empty apology, which is odd, considering it’s not ¬ _even_ an apology. It’s an invitation to see one another. Tadashi swallows and has to place his phone down. In a little over twelve hours, he’s going to be headed home with his aunt. He’ll have three months to think about all that has happened this past year and what it means. What Hiro means, what Robert means…

They’ve been through a lot, and Robert has done more, for Tadashi, than he could have ever asked. Hell, Tadashi never would’ve met Hiro, if Robert hadn’t given him the lab, the sponsorship, the _connections._ He owes the man a lot—and, maybe, that includes some sort of benefit of the doubt, some sort of _chance_ to make things right before this all comes to a halt.

Has Robert seen Alistair, since their night together? Is this about Alistair and Hiro? Perhaps Robert has figured out the truth about Maemi. Tadashi finds himself more disturbed by that than anything else. Robert would never be able to keep that sort of information, to himself. He has far too much regard for authority. He’s too _moral_. The possibility swarms Tadashi with fear.

Hiro is self-aware enough to recognize what he did was a crime. He knows it was wrong and, much like how he has always used his sexuality, he also knows there are consequences. But, Hiro didn’t tell Tadashi because he was trying to further blackmail his father. He was reaching out. Tadashi suspects Hiro _needed_ to tell someone, or he’d go insane.

And, it’s terrifying. It’s terrifying to think such a small child is capable of ordering a hit on his own mother. It’s even more terrifying to think Alistair allowed it.

But, what is most terrifying, to Tadashi, is punishing Hiro.

In a basic sense, what teenager hasn’t wished death upon their guardian, even in passing? No therapist would take an offhand comment like that into serious consideration. Hiro’s thoughts would have been ignored and overcome, had he not been with Alistair Krei, at the time.

The problem was that his stepfather encouraged it. Alistair had provided the funds. Maybe Hiro really did want his mother dead. Maybe, in some ways, he was responsible for bringing it up in the first place. But, despite that, Tadashi doesn’t think he could hate Hiro.

Hiro is just a kid. An abused kid, who held animosity toward people who had hurt him. Robert won’t see it that way, though. He’ll want to tear Hiro apart, and if all Tadashi can do, for Hiro, is stop that, then he has to try.

Determined, Tadashi picks up his phone again and texts Robert back.

> yeah okay  
>  Sent at 9:41 a.m.

> i'll be there soon  
>  Sent at 9:43 a.m.

He doesn’t leave right away. He procrastinates by staring at his past text messages with Hiro and considers, briefly, wishing him a good night. Something about that feels far too casual, as though suggesting tomorrow everything will return to normal Hiro doesn’t need a reminder of just how long it will be until they see each other again.

Robert, perhaps restless, offers to pay for Tadashi’s cab fare, but the younger man declines and, by the time he changes and arrives, it’s nearly eleven. Tadashi knows the code to get into the building, but, at the man’s door, he hesitates. He doesn’t want to get into another fight, yell. He envisions Robert upstairs in his loft, going mad by his discovery; but, then, he has to remember he’s not even certain his professor knows, at all.

_Fuck it._

He knocks—and, knocks again, and it takes far longer than expected for the door to unlock and open. There, standing in the same, old style of cardigan and dress pants, Robert offers what can be considered a warming smile. Welcoming, at the very least; and, for Robert, there’s an immediate sense of foolery, embarrassment. He wants to reach out and embrace Tadashi.

“It’s pretty late,” he says, trying to offer a humorous smile. “I apologize. I know you have a long day ahead of you, tomorrow.”

A four hour drive back to the middle of nowhere. He hopes Tadashi’s aunt will be staying in the city for a few hours before they decide to start the journey back home. Eight hours on the road is never a pleasant experience. 

“Come in, come in,” he then says, hastily, when he realizes they’re just standing in the doorway. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? Beer?”

“No, I’m good,” Tadashi tells him. He advances through the loft and leans against the back of Robert’s couch. The small talk is unnecessary, he thinks; but, Robert isn’t angry, right now. He appears _nervous_ , and Tadashi stares back at him, curious. “Have you seen Krei?”

Robert folds his arms and nods. “I have,” he admits; “but, it isn’t what you think, Tadashi. We’re not—this isn’t going anywhere. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”

His composure comes as a surprise. Tadashi doesn’t even think he’s looking for sympathy. He’s just stating facts, and it’s then that Tadashi considers this may have nothing to do with the truth about Maemi. Slowly, he starts to relax.

“I guess it’s kind of pointless, what with you going to New York soon,” Tadashi reasons. He shrugs and hopes it doesn’t come across as too crass. Then again, it’s not as though Robert wouldn’t deserve it. “Hiro will be relieved, though. Not that you care.”

Robert shifts. “Listen, Tadashi,” he begins with an exhale. He wishes he could reach out and grab the man’s hands, soothe him. “I need to apologize, to you, first off. I should’ve never been so harsh about Hiro. That wasn’t my place. And, I certainly never should’ve led you on in this relationship. That is all on me.”

Humorlessly, Tadashi laughs. “You’re right,” he says. “It is. You had no place between us—especially after that bullshit about how you wanted me to explore other relationships. You’re a hypocrite, Robert. You spent all this time preaching good morale, then you— _with_ Alistair Krei? God.”

Tadashi can tell that stings, and it’s as satisfying as it is heartbreaking. He doesn’t want to make Robert upset; yet, at the same time, he absolutely does. It’s only fair after his behavior and the accusations he made against Hiro. Robert realizes a simple apology can’t wash away the younger man’s pain. It’s stubborn, too, Robert realizes, and it’s what he needs to serve as a reminder of how different the two of them are, how they are decades apart and, realistically, could probably never make this work. 

There’s so much Tadashi doesn’t understand. About relationships. About what other people do for one another and how not everything is centered strictly around preserving the fragility of one’s emotions. He’s so… young. Younger than his daughter. Younger than Robert was when he first slept with another man. Up until a few days ago, he hadn’t even finished his first year of college.

“That’s fair,” he says with a nod. “You know I respect your honesty, Tadashi…”

The younger man gives him a look that indicates his annoyance. Robert wonders if anything he says will make Tadashi less frustrated, right now.

‘Likewise,” Robert continues; “I’d like it if I could be straight forward with you, too.”

Skeptical, Tadashi remains silent. It reminds him they’re alone, that most of the building, the street, is asleep, by now. Alistair and Hiro are probably asleep, too. 

“Hiro came to see me, this morning,” Robert states, and he can see how the color drains from Tadashi’s face. There’s no doubt the two have seen each other today. It’s Tadashi’s last night in San Fransokyo, after all. The boy must’ve omitted the details of his morning. “Frankly, Tadashi, our encounter was disturbing.”

He’ll leave it at that, Robert decides. Tadashi won’t want to hear it; and, even if he did, he’d still attack Robert for suggesting anything critical about Hiro.

“That’s why I went to Alistair, later. I told him the truth and that Hiro needs—help. Professional help. Christ, they could both use it. It’s not our business what they decide to do, but we need to respect their decision, Tadashi. I—I think it’s best, for us both, and Hiro, if we let them focus on getting Hiro that attention.”

Tadashi’s body goes slack, and he stares. Robert is asking him to leave Hiro alone and, this time, it isn’t out of spite. He pictures Robert and Hiro alone together, the younger boy—undoubtedly—doing all he can to get a rise out of his opponent. He thinks about how, with probably just the flip of a switch, Hiro transferred his focus on Tadashi. If something had happened, Tadashi wouldn’t have ever known.

Tadashi knows Hiro has needed help for a long time, now. All of this has been so hard on Hiro, and he barely realizes it. Tadashi has to close his eyes and focus before he speaks again. 

“I can’t leave him forever,” Tadashi whispers. “For now, sure, but—I was leaving, anyway. I’m going home, Robert.”

He really doesn’t think he’ll be able to go the whole summer without texting Hiro. Without calling him. Especially so if he’s going through mental help, for the first time in his life. Christ, what happens when he gets diagnosed? When he’s prescribed medication?

“You got what you wanted,” he says, pathetically. “You got your old boyfriend back, and I’m not gonna be near Hiro.”

“I’m not trying to rub the circumstances in,” Robert defends. He doesn’t hold back his impatience. “Alistair and I—that’s not important. I have no intention of seeing him for quite some time, and not just because I am leaving for the season. I have no place in his life, right now. In Hiro’s life. Hiro needs to focus on himself, and that’s never going to happen if we’re around.”

Other than their heated argument, neither of them has really acknowledged the relationship between Alistair and Hiro. Whereas Robert sees it as the disturbing, unsettling mistake that is, his faith in Alistair and regard for the man’s emotions have kept him from completely thinking the worst. Tadashi sees it otherwise; to him, it’s nothing but abuse. Robert wonders how Tadashi must perceive himself. Four years may be a small number, but he’s still an adult.

“Tadashi,” Robert calls out, finally reaching out and grabbing the man’s hand. It feels dangerous. He almost expects Tadashi to pull away. “I wish things were different. There’s so much I wish I could change. I don’t regret our relationship, but I know, now, that I shouldn’t have let it get so out of hand. I wanted you to explore other options, yet I acted like a jealous boyfriend when you did. That wasn’t right. I really am sorry.”

The apology doesn’t sound good enough. It sounds desperate. Pathetic. An invitation across the country is only going to make Robert feel even more fraught by his insecurities.

“I’m leaving on Monday,” he reminds him. “And, I know, come tomorrow, you’ll be on the road with your aunt, heading back home. You need that time away. You need to see your aunt. But, I…”

Robert struggles. Tadashi is staring at him as though they’ve never shared an intimate moment together. 

“I’d like it, Tadashi, if you considered joining me, in a few weeks,” he finishes. Soon, the words are flowing out. “Just us. I’m renting a place in the city. There’s plenty of room, and I’d pay for your fare.”

“Robert…”

Tadashi continues stare, and he doesn’t know what to say. He thought their affair was officially over, that even next year’s sponsorship would be met by awkward conversations and excuses not to be alone together.

“Why?” he asks, almost harshly. “Are you really that determined to keep me away from Hiro?”

“Don’t look at it that way,” Robert insists. “Think about it as something beneficial, for Hiro. For yourself. I think you’d quite like the city, Tadashi. Museums, art galleries. We’ll even go to a club, if you want.”

Awkwardly, Tadashi manages to laugh, and Robert does, too. It relieves some of the tension between them, and Tadashi reminds himself Robert isn’t demanding that he leave with him, right now.

After all, Tadashi does want to see Aunt Cass. He wants to sleep in his room again. But, he also knows, in a few weeks, he’ll grow restless, maybe even enough to make the journey back to San Fransokyo.

And, that would do more harm than good…

“This is kind of a big deal,” Tadashi says, continuing to laugh. “It’s also probably—maybe—a little against some kind of school policy.”

Robert raises a brow. “I think we already crossed those boundaries.”

Tadashi’s heart leaps at the way Robert squeezes his hands. It almost has him flushing. He’s reminded of eight months ago, when he felt those ridiculous butterflies in his stomach at the first realization _the_ Professor Robert Callaghan was making eye contact with him.

They both know where this relationship stands, now. And, if they somehow manage to fuck it up all over again, at least Tadashi would be gaining more life experience. It’d be a change of scenery and pace. It could do them both good. 

“I sort of half-convinced myself we’d never speak again,” he admits, shyly. “I figured the next time I’d even see you would be on a tabloid, kissing Alistair Krei.”

Robert’s expression falters, and Tadashi feels a bit guilty for the remark. He wonders just how deeply Robert feels for Alistair, after all these years. They’re all quite the mess, really, and Tadashi doesn’t know how he got caught up in this weird love rectangle. He’s not sure whether or not he regrets it; he just knows that he wants to give Hiro the best possible chance at recovery.

“It doesn’t have to be like before,” Robert then states. He even lets go of Tadashi’s hand so that the younger man knows this isn’t just some kind of possessive trap. “Regardless of that—regardless of everything—I still admire you greatly, Tadashi. I believe in your work. I’ve been teaching for over three decades, and I’ve never had a student like you. I want you to succeed, and I thought—maybe, there’d be opportunity, if you joined me. I know some influential people, after all.”

He smiles. And, to his relief, Tadashi smiles back. Even if it remains fleeting, Robert still regards their memories as beautiful, important.

He took Tadashi’s virginity. Robert was the first openly gay man Tadashi ever encountered, ever could sit down and talk with about anything and everything. While their lives were (and are destined to be) different, their connection is real. If nothing else, Robert would like to think he instilled some wisdom into Tadashi about being true to his desires. That may have come back to haunt Robert, considering the younger man’s pursuit of Hiro, but at least Tadashi was being honest with himself.

“I’ve missed you,” he offers with a gentle shrug. “We shared something very special this past year, Tadashi.”

Tadashi continues to beam, but he’s staring down at his feet, now. This is almost embarrassing. He’s not being treated like a child. Instead, Robert sees something more in him. A person with his own ability to make choices, and Tadashi realizes this is a new feeling between them.

For once, he feels like he’s on the same level. He takes a deep breath and nods, because what could it hurt? It’s not like he has anything else to do at home.

Tentatively, he leans forward and places a quick kiss on the corner of Robert’s lips. There’s about three seconds where they don’t move; and, then, Tadashi is kissing him full-on, and he doesn’t feel small like he usually does. He wonders what it would be like to actually top Robert.

“I still think you’re hot,” Tadashi mumbles, which causes Robert to laugh. “So, I’m still gonna kiss you and all that stuff. I mean, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay,” Robert agrees, laughing through another kiss.

His fingers clasp at the younger man’s hair, keeping them positioned as he rediscovers his mouth, the warmth of his tongue and the softness of his lips. When they pull apart, Robert offers a smile and brushing at his cheek, pensive. 

“When would you want me to fly out?”

“You tell me,” Robert says. “Get settled in, back at home. Enjoy yourself. And, when you decide, I’ll make the arrangements. Just—try to prepare yourself for Abigail’s stepmother jokes, will you?”

Because there’s no way his daughter won’t see through it. Who could, really? This isn’t just a student and professor having dinner at a local restaurant. It’s a professor taking his student clear across the country for a summer getaway. There are more than just a few jokes anyone could crack, regarding this situation.

“Thank you, Tadashi,” Robert then says as they start making their way back toward the front door. “Thank you for coming, tonight. For listening. And, most especially, thank you for not cutting me out entirely. I would’ve deserved that, and we both know it.”

Tadashi is momentarily distracted by the pull that tells him, quite fervently, to stay the night. “I didn’t act any better,” Tadashi admits.

This whole mess is partially Tadashi’s fault, after all. It’s everyone’s fault. The blame for these weeks can’t be placed on any one person; Alistair pushed Hiro’s abuse and used him. Hiro was wrapped up in himself and focused on power. Robert followed too closely to his emotions. And, Tadashi…

_Well._

He made a robot. He made eyes at his professor. He went along with the advances of a fourteen year-old and listened to his heart, and that got everyone hurt. Tadashi is pretty glad all of this is over, actually.

He stands on the front landing, and the cool summer air wraps around him from one of the open hall windows. It’s humid, tonight. Before he leaves, he pulls Robert into a loving embrace. He buries his face into Robert’s neck and sighs.

“See you in New York,” he whispers. 

Then, Tadashi turns away without looking back. Because he knows, if he does, he’ll never leave.

**The End**


End file.
